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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055186">what can death loose in me after your embrace?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadefenders/pseuds/akadefenders'>akadefenders</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Means of Possession [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Courtship, Getting Together, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Literal Sleeping Together, Literary References &amp; Allusions, M/M, Manipulation, Medical Procedures, Minor Original Character(s), Pancakes, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Romance, Serious Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:26:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadefenders/pseuds/akadefenders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was a peace in falling, in twisting through the air. With his eyes closed, all he could smell was salt air and blood. His stinging wounds were frozen in the cold. All he could hear was the whistling of the wind, all he could feel was the warmth of Hannibal's body engulfing him. If this was how Death was going to welcome him into its arms, Will was glad to be going and to have Hannibal by his side."</p><p>We know that Will and Hannibal are engaged, but how do they get there? This is their love story, from fall to flame. A prequel to "Tattoo Your Name Across My Heart" and "Tattoo of My Name On You". You do not need to read them to understand this story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Means of Possession [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“You want to feel such sweet and easy peace.”</em>
</p><p>There was a peace in falling, in twisting through the air. With his eyes closed, all he could smell was salt air and blood. His stinging wounds were frozen in the cold. All he could hear was the whistling of the wind, all he could feel was the warmth of Hannibal's body engulfing him. If this was how Death was going to welcome him into its arms, Will was glad to be going and to have Hannibal by his side.</p><p>Strong arms pulled him closer as they hit the water feet first, Hannibal taking the brunt of the impact. Will felt the explosion jar through his body, the frigid Atlantic as hard as concrete and colder than ice. He felt something shatter in his chest as they plunged several feet into the water at unprecedented speed, powerful rolling waves battering them with a force he had never felt before. Will waited for the welcome blackness of unconsciousness but in a cruel twist of irony the weightlessness and serenity of falling was replaced by sudden, excruciating sensation. Panic set in as he felt them sink deeper and deeper.</p><p>He opened his stinging eyes in the water to see crushing darkness. His fist was closed around a clump of Hannibal’s sweater. It was the only thing he could feel other than ceaseless, merciless water, grounding him like a lodestone. His legs felt like lead but he kicked as hard as he could, his hand holding onto Hannibal’s dead weight tightly. He held his breath, chest in agony, lungs burning. He tried to move his other arm to pull himself up to the surface then screamed soundlessly underwater as pain lanced up his bones, jarring him. Trying to distract himself, he kicked and he kicked and he kicked, focused on reaching the air above. </p><p>His lungs burned, screaming at him to breathe, to inhale, to let air in. Against all odds, he resisted, knowing a single breath inwards would be the kiss of death. He felt weak and useless. Everything was on fire, even underwater. He burned, the wounds on his face and shoulder stabbing at him senselessly, chest filling with so much pain he felt as though he could collapse and explode from it all at once.</p><p>He burst through the water, gulping frantic lungfuls of air, almost hyperventilating with the need to breathe. Glorious, precious, cold air. So welcome, so necessary. He had never appreciated the beauty of breathing before - the simple act of inhaling and exhaling. It hurt to breathe, each exhale leaving through gritted teeth. He welcomed the hurt, life-giving as it was. He pulled with all his might, yanking Hannibal above the violent surface of the water, hauling him backwards to his aching chest. </p><p>The tide was pushing and pulling them, but ultimately hurtling them toward a small crop of rocks on the edge of the beach below the towering cliffs. Wave after wave crashed over them, the current unforgiving and constant. All Will could do was hold on tightly to the worryingly unresponsive Hannibal and focus on keeping their heads above the water. Swimming was not a possibility, not with his bruised and battered body, Hannibal’s body weight, and the force of the water batting them around like a cat with a toy.</p><p>As the rocks got closer, Will braced for the impact. The first hit left him gasping, the air pushed out of his lungs with a brutal smash, his vision blackening at the edges. His grasping fingers tried helplessly to find some purchase against the slippery, algae-covered surface. Hannibal’s body was striking the rocks with each wave. Will needed to haul himself up and out of the water but the thought of letting go of Hannibal’s body was repulsive somehow. But if he didn’t, they would both drown. He thought momentarily of just letting go, fading into nothing, Hannibal by his side. It was what he had originally wanted after all. It would be so easy to let go. He was so, so tired.</p><p>He looked at Hannibal’s face one last time, wanting to memorise the short dark silvering hair, the once tan skin now pale from years of incarceration, the angular cheekbones, the sweep of golden blonde eyelashes, the plush lips. His eyes were closed. A sudden ache enveloped Will. He wanted to see those eyes again, the ones that had doomed him and damned him. The idea of never seeing that shade of brown again was an anathema to him. He had to do something. He gritted his teeth, took a huge breath and pushed himself under the water, under Hannibal. He grabbed Hannibal’s legs and pushed him up against the rock, his arms straining in pain. Hannibal was both taller and broader than him, and his dead weight would have been an effort to manipulate for a fully healthy Will. Now it practically required a Herculean effort.</p><p>When he finally felt Hannibal was secure, he kicked back up to the surface, and hauled himself up too, adrenaline guiding him. He collapsed, shivering, teeth chattering, the rock digging painfully into his skin through his shirt. He turned to stare at Hannibal’s slack face, and unwillingly hauled himself up, the jagged surface tearing at his shaking hands. Stumbling onto his feet, he hauled Hannibal up, arms underneath his armpits and across his broad chest, and dragged him off the rock to the soft, damp white sand behind them.</p><p>He lay Hannibal down gently, cushioning his head as it came into contact with the earth. He looked pale and drawn, peaceful in sleep.</p><p>“Hannibal,” he croaked, voice broken and quiet underneath the roar of the ocean.</p><p>There was no response.</p><p>“Hannibal!” he shouted, then winced as he became aware of the wound in his cheek, which had been momentarily numbed from the freezing cold of the water, but now stung and smarted at the sudden movement.</p><p>He furiously dug his thumbs into the soft flesh above Hannibal's collarbones, hoping to jar him awake through the painful sensation. It was useless. Hannibal remained unresponsive. Will laid one hand on Hannibal’s chest, turned his head and lowered it close to his face, searching for the glorious sounds of breathing, looking and feeling for the telltale rise and fall of his chest. To his horror, Hannibal was not breathing either. </p><p>“No, no, no, no, no,” muttered Will, terror filling him, eclipsing him from head to toe.</p><p>The reality of his sole survival began to sink in. Will Graham, surviving the Chesapeake Ripper, Il Mostro. Hannibal Lecter, truly, properly, dead and gone. Unmoving in front of the Atlantic Ocean, broken and mangled by the man he had once…</p><p>No, thought Will furiously. This was not the time to give up. Hannibal had to live.</p><p>He hauled Hannibal upright into a sitting position and pushed himself behind him, supporting his weight. With all the strength he could muster, he hit Hannibal with the heel of his hand in between his shoulder blades, once, twice, then five times.</p><p>“Wake up, Hannibal, you bastard. You can’t leave me alone now,” he muttered as he pushed Hannibal slightly forward. He placed one hand on his sternum, keeping the other between his shoulder blades, and massaged hard in an upward motion, trying to dredge the water up and out of his lungs.</p><p>He hit him on the back again. He massaged again. He laid Hannibal back down to the ground and stared at his now blue lips. Turning Hannibal on his side, he opened his mouth to make sure he hadn’t vomited. Finding his airways thankfully, mercifully clear, he rolled him onto his back again. He lowered his head to Hannibal’s face, a panic starting to set in again. He had to live. He had to. </p><p>Tilting his head back and pinching his nose closed, Will sealed his mouth over Hannibal’s, breathing into his mouth. He turned to see Hannibal’s chest rise with some satisfaction, then turned back and sealed their lips together once more, giving another breath. For long minutes, he gave rescue breaths, damp and intimate. The air from his lungs pushing into Hannibal's. Over and over, he hit Hannibal’s back and massaged his chest, manipulating his body, feeling the hope and anger drain out of him slowly, being replaced with a black dread as he continued to remain lifeless.</p><p>“Come on,” he pleaded, not knowing if he was talking to Hannibal or the universe. “It can’t end like this.”</p><p>He held Hannibal against him, his body balanced in the cradle of his. Will had not prayed in years. He thought of himself in the Norman Chapel staring at Hannibal’s idea of God, standing in his mind and trying desperately to understand him, feeling both surrounded and completely abandoned. God knows if anyone deserved death then it was Hannibal, the man who had given it to so many others. If Will Graham was a good man, a sane man, he would get up and walk away. Let Hannibal suffer divine retribution. But he couldn’t live while Hannibal died. He just couldn’t.</p><p>God please, he thought. Please.</p><p>Hot tears were now leaking silently from his eyes. With a final burst of energy, he hit Hannibal’s back again. And again. And again. </p><p>A heaving, gasping, painful breath emerged. The teacup had gathered itself back together.</p><p>Eyes open and bulging, Hannibal twisted out of Will’s grasp and collapsed to the side, bracing his hands on the ground. He vomited what looked like a mixture of water and blood, coughing and retching miserably. For a moment, Will could only stare, wide-eyed, relief rushing through his bones. It lasted only a brief moment before Hannibal collapsed onto his chest with a grunt.</p><p>“Will,” he heard faintly, broken and pained.</p><p>Will had never heard a more beautiful sound.</p><p>“Hannibal,” he said frantically, scrambling over to him, laying a shaking hand on his heaving back. “Hannibal, I’m here.”</p><p>“Will,” said Hannibal. His distinctive voice was dazed and rough, as though he had swallowed sandpaper. “We’re alive.”</p><p>
  <em>We’re alive. We’re alive. We’re alive.</em>
</p><p>Hannibal’s words ran through Will’s head, ringing through the chaos. They were alive. He had meant for them to die, but they had lived. The ocean had accepted his sacrifice of blood and death and spat them both out of the mouth of hell. They had gone through a rebirth, an awakening. Even the elements couldn’t bring an end to Hannibal Lecter. Or perhaps it was just Will who couldn’t.</p><p>Hannibal groaned in pain and breathed shallowly.</p><p>“I think I’ve broken my leg, Will. And my ribs.” </p><p>He lurched forward a little, then lay there, prone and still.</p><p>“We need to leave,” said Will urgently. “They’ll be looking for us.”</p><p>Body aching, both arms throbbing in more pain than ever, he dragged himself to Hannibal, lowering his head until their faces were level with one another. Until those eyes met his own.</p><p>“Will, I can’t move.”</p><p>He spoke the words like a sinner at confession. Forgive me Father, for I can’t move. The thread of power that weaved through him at the vision of a weak and vulnerable Hannibal at his mercy was a familiar one. But Will was also a little disconcerted. The idea of a Hannibal incapable of anything was so out of the realm of his reality that he didn’t quite know what to do. He was always so competent, almost to a frightening degree, that seeing him powerless like this was a shock to his system.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p><p>“I cannot move Will. And you cannot carry me.”</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes tracked over Will’s bloody cheek, his shoulders, and back to his exhausted, stormy eyes. </p><p>Hannibal was right. Getting him onto the beach alone had been nigh on impossible. The idea of supporting a Hannibal who couldn’t even walk to some safe location was laughable.</p><p>“But then...what else am I meant to do?” he asked.</p><p>“Leave me and go.”</p><p>Will stared at Hannibal.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Don’t be stubborn, Will,” chided Hannibal. “We don’t have much time to lose.”</p><p>“I’m not leaving you here.”</p><p>“Will, I cannot make it to the top of the cliff without help. You cannot provide that help to me. But if you leave, you can find someone who can.”</p><p>The idea of leaving Hannibal here, injured and defenceless and slowly bleeding out was abhorrent. Despite all of his atrocities and viciousness, if anyone was to stumble across him now, Hannibal would not be able to fight back. Will had a sudden vision of himself atop the cliff watching helplessly as Jack and the FBI surrounded Hannibal.</p><p>“What if someone finds you here?”</p><p>“Then it will be the end of the road for us, Will. But I do not think anyone is coming for us yet.”</p><p>“No?” asked Will, a little savagely. “Think you’re that much of a God that the FBI cannot touch you?”</p><p>Hannibal smiled fondly.</p><p>“Fear did always make you rude, Will.”</p><p>“I’m not afraid of the FBI.”</p><p>“That is not what I meant.”</p><p>A beat. There was so much there to say. They moved on.</p><p>“There is a path and some stairs leading to the top of the cliff. Take it back up to the house. There is a safe in the bedroom, behind a framed sketch of mine. The combination is 04413. Among other things, inside you will find a burner phone with Chiyoh’s number programmed into it. Call her and ask her to come at once. Tell her to bring the boat.”</p><p>Will looked up at the sheer height of the cliff. His eyes sought the beginning of the path at the edge of the beach and spotted some wooden stairs. His ribs seemed to throb in protest at the thought of climbing that far up.</p><p>"Chiyoh is in America?" he asked.</p><p>"She came back when I asked her to."</p><p>Will processed this information. </p><p>“I think I’ve dislocated my shoulder. Can you set it?”</p><p>For some reason, Hannibal looked more pained now than ever. </p><p>“No, sorry Will. I couldn’t get the force required to help you. But you can set it yourself, I’ll guide you.”</p><p>“What do I need to do?”</p><p>“This will be painful, Will,” warned Hannibal.</p><p>Will let out a bark of laughter, ignoring the way his cheek pulled grotesquely.</p><p>“Everything is already painful, Doctor,” he said bitingly.</p><p>Hannibal looked equal parts amused and exasperated.</p><p>“Very well,” he said, “Sit up. You need to grab the wrist of your injured arm.”</p><p>“Which one?” joked Will.</p><p>Hannibal shot him a look.</p><p>“Okay, okay,” he said, pushing himself into a seated position and grabbing his left wrist as firmly as he could with his right hand. </p><p>“Pull your arm forward and straight, in front of you. It will guide the joint of your humerus back to the shoulder socket.”</p><p>Will closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. All he could hear was the rush of the waves behind him. Once so serene to him, the ocean now sounded like a raging leviathan, angry at their survival. With a gasp, he opened his eyes to see Hannibal looking at him.</p><p>“Relax, Will.”</p><p>“Kind of hard to relax when I’m in pain,” said Will.</p><p>“Your muscles will seize if you wait too long, and then it will be too painful to set it yourself. We’re both bleeding out. You need to do it and you need to do it now. Try to relax your arm as much as you can.”</p><p>Will looked directly into Hannibal’s eyes, and took as deep a breath as he could manage. He let it out. </p><p>“Good, Will,” said Hannibal. “Now another breath.”</p><p>Will obeyed, allowing his breathing to gentle. He closed his eyes once more.</p><p>“Just listen to the sound of my voice, Will. I’m here, you are not alone.”</p><p>Hannibal’s voice was so soft, so comforting, so achingly familiar. With his eyes closed, it felt all the more intimate. Like no one else existed in the whole world but the two of them. How had he gone three years without hearing it? He let his breathing calm, feeling his heart rate decrease and the panic ebb a little. The muscles in his arm went lax.</p><p>“Do it now Will.”</p><p>Slowly but steadily, Will pulled his left arm in front of him. His arm protested the movement, pain lancing through the whole limb. Eyes watering with pain, he felt the joint suddenly pop back into place. And then it was over. All that lingered was a persistent soreness. He gingerly rolled his shoulder. The joint was not so stiff anymore, no longer protesting movement, but the feeling was still thoroughly unpleasant.</p><p>“All done?” asked Hannibal.</p><p>Will opened his eyes and nodded, unable to verbalise the sensation he felt.</p><p>“Go now, Will. When you get to the house, lie down. It will help with your blood loss.”</p><p>“Will you be alright?”</p><p>Hannibal just smiled.</p><p>“Like I said Will, you worry too much. When you come back, I may be unconscious. I will try to stay awake but I cannot make too many promises.”</p><p>“Stay here,” urged Will. “Don’t move. Conserve your energy.”</p><p>“Where else would I go?”</p><p>Will got up and looked at Hannibal one last time. He wanted to imprint the lines of his body and the look in his eyes in his mind. </p><p>“I will come back for you.”</p><p>“I have utmost faith in you Will.”</p><p>Will closed his eyes and swayed. Faith was a funny thing. It made him feel hot and cold all over. He turned around and walked away from Hannibal. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t look back. They were on their journey out of the underworld. If he looked back, just like Orpheus, he was lost. It was with this thought burning inside him that he struggled through the sand, reaching the wooden staircase. He glanced up one more time - the climb seemed insurmountable, Sisyphean. He had perhaps no chance of making it. No chance and no choice.</p><p>He put one foot on the wooden platform and started to climb.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The title is from <a href="https://hergart.tripod.com/hilda/fragment68.html">"Fragment Sixty-Eight by h.d."</a> </p><p>Will and Hannibal are miraculously lucky to survive and only do so because they enter the water feet first. I got my information on what falling into water from a great height would feel like and what it would do to you internally from <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/7265332/">two</a> <a href="http://content.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1197707,00.html">articles</a>, but please be warned that there are discussions of suicide within them.</p><p>Hannibal’s safe number 04413 refers to 4 April 2013, the original airdate of Apéritif, and what I am counting as the date of the day he met Will.</p><p>Where possible, go see a doctor to get your shoulder popped back in if you ever do dislocate it and go as soon as possible. Only ever do the <a href="https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-pop-your-shoulder#seeing-a-doctor">self method</a> if you are several hours away from getting medical attention and by yourself (or fugitives from the law who cannot access a hospital lol). </p><p>Big shout out to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredTree">Egg</a> for being my beta, giving loads of encouragement and so much medical advice that is helping make this fic as accurate as I can make it. Massive thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelblack">Moth</a> for giving me the wonderful line about teacups. All my love to the Trout House server for their support and input 💖💖</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! More to come!</p><p>Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings <a href="http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The strange sense of euphoria he had felt before the fall seemed to settle somewhere comfortably behind Will’s chest. A talisman, it guided him up the wooden stairs and along the sandy paths that punctuated them. Small patches of grass and shrubbery that stubbornly grew along the unforgiving cliff face brushed against his calves. The fight with the Dragon replayed in his head in technicolour flashes. A glint of moonlight on the edge of a knife; the whip of air as Hannibal swung his axe; the screams of pain as they brutally hunted a predator capable of a great many acts of violence. </p><p>It made his blood sing. If he focused on that, he could forget his many injuries. The thrill of the kill innervated him, emotion heightened by the bond he shared with Hannibal. Even now, far away from him, he could feel it pulsating in every atom of his body. Physical distance couldn’t stop the amorphous sensation from being known. Their final plunge into the Dragon’s body, knife and maw, simultaneous and synchronised, filled him with euphoria, with ecstasy. If he focused on that, he could forget that he was climbing alone, and that the man with whom he had danced their sanguinary danse macabre lay dying, far away from him.</p><p>On and on he climbed, forcing the worry and the anxiety to another part of his mind. Boxing it, filing it away, compartmentalising the best he could. He held his left arm close to his chest and focused on pushing one leg above the other. His thighs burned with effort. Pure adrenaline kept his mounting exhaustion at bay. The cliff was high and the steps were precarious, wood rotting in places. Moonlight seemed to bathe his surroundings in a shroud. He felt like one of those mythical creatures who crept out at night and existed in the liminal spaces of the world - half alive, half dead. </p><p>He climbed until he felt a stitch in his side that got more painful as time went on. Eventually he rested, leaning heavily against one of the railings, panting and cursing under his breath. He massaged his chest, trying to breathe evenly and avoid touching the spots where his ribs ached the most. </p><p>He had no time to waste. The longer he took to climb, the longer Hannibal lay exposed and in the open, inching closer and closer to death without medical attention. The longer he took to climb, the closer the FBI were to finding them. They had disabled the police car’s GPS tracking system, just as Will was sure Dolarhyde had also done on his car, but there was every possibility that either of them had been seen on a CCTV camera or spotted by a bystander. After all, people remember blood-spattered police vehicles racing past at illegal speeds. And Jack was tenacious and determined. Losing Hannibal halfway through their plan to bait Dolarhyde must have come as a blow. A manhunt would no doubt be on the way - it was just a matter of time until they were tracked.</p><p>As he had said to Bedelia, he had no intention of letting Hannibal be caught a second time.</p><p>So he pushed before the stitch was fully gone and kept climbing. He did not know how far up he was. He did not know how far he had to go. He had to believe he could make it. He had to believe it was possible or he knew he would be lost. He had come this far and giving up was not an option. Will refused to look down or to look back. He kept his head down, staring at his feet, making sure he did not falter on the path or miss a step. Losing his footing now would mean certain death, not only for him, but by extension, for Hannibal too.</p><p>Endless. The steps seemed endless. The moon was at its highest in the sky now and time began to blur. He could have been climbing for ten minutes or twenty or an hour. Will was a physically fit man. He had to be in order to run with his dogs every day, to fish for hours in frigid water, hauling his catch around. But this was an exercise in uncommon endurance and determination. It was a mundane and monotone task yet he knew that losing himself to it would prove to be fatal. Total concentration was required in order to maintain his footing. He felt fatigue set in, a headache pounding at his temples and squeezing his skull.</p><p>His head spun and he used his right arm to steady himself against the railing. He felt nauseous and retched a little, his wounded cheek spasming at the movement. Just a little further, he thought. Just a few steps more. </p><p>He staggered, using the railing to support him as he climbed. Every step was now agony. He pushed off the wooden support beams to propel himself, now urging his whole body upwards. What he would find on the other end of the stairs he did not know - damnation or salvation alike seemed better than this infernal limbo of continuous ascent. His wet clothes had dried in the cold air but stuck to him uncomfortably, sticky once again with his blood. He felt caged within them, trapped like a wild thing in a straitjacket. </p><p>Falling had been so easy. Pulling them over the cliff had taken a moment of perfect clarity, nothing more, nothing less. He had preserved the beauty of their triumph in a single moment of physical poetry and signed its end with a statement no one would ever forget.</p><p>Rising was harder. Harder and infinitely more important.</p><p>Hannibal, he thought. Hannibal needs me. And if he is to die, it will not be alone and forgotten, broken by the sea. It will be by my side, by my hands.</p><p>With a last burst of energy, he began to climb once again, this time ferociously, with an almost savage grace. He pushed the pain away, or perhaps he harnessed it, yoking it like a bull. All he knew was one goal, one desire that extinguished all other thoughts. He had to get Chiyoh. Time was of the essence.</p><p>He burst through the brush onto the edge of the cliff, several hundred feet away from the house whose lights he could see twinkling in the distance. Relief rushed through him at the sight and he shook a little as he reached gratifyingly flat ground. Making sure there were no other cars around, and straining to hear the sound of any sirens in the distance, he made his way over to the house. Alongside their stolen police car stood Dolarhyde’s equally illegally acquired vehicle. Will walked to the front of the house and its gory tableau, its shattered window and eroding bluff.</p><p>The Great Red Dragon lay vanquished, utterly human in death, the monster banished to wherever souls go after they have been separated from life. Will stepped close to the body, taking care to avoid the blood. The artistic slash in his belly and the jagged bite in his throat seemed to wink at him. He wondered if Dolarhyde burned in hell. He wondered if he himself would one day join him. God was such a tricky creature - violent in his own reckoning yet punishing of those who helped him exact it. Will knew that paradise was not in his fate; after all, how could it be after all he had done? But absurdly, looking at the corpse of the man he had helped to murder, he felt as though he had stumbled onto a garden of earthly delights. Debauched and hedonistic, a field of indulgences that served no purpose other than providing the satisfying righteousness of stamping out a life like a cockroach under his boot.</p><p>He looked into the house. There was an eerie stillness about the place. No noise other than the wind, no light other than the moon and the softly glowing lamps that effused the scene of the crime with a deceptive warmth. Dolarhyde’s camera still stood where he had left it, the reel still running. Will looked down at himself. His clothes were relatively dry and no longer dripping with seawater, albeit still bloody. His shoes had tracked some sand onto the stone but he had arrived mostly noiselessly at the scene. He took the axe that Hannibal had fought with and entered the house, stepping gingerly over broken glass from the window and the wine bottle. With a firm grip, he swung the weapon onto the camera repeatedly, making sure that it and the film inside were damaged and broken beyond repair. </p><p>Throwing the axe back out the window, he surveyed the scene. No one would know that the camera was broken after the fight and not during it. If he could manage it, he wanted to make sure that no one realised he and Hannibal were still alive. It would give them time to escape, seed doubts into the minds of Jack and the rest that the search for them wasn’t worth it. He toed off his sandy shoes and socks, and threw them outside too. First he went to the kitchen and put on a pair of rubber kitchen gloves. Not ideal, but better than nothing. </p><p>Then he quietly padded barefoot through the house to the room he knew to be Hannibal’s. When they had first arrived, he had left Will in the living room and gone into a room down the hallway, emerging showered and dressed, after three years, in clothes of his own liking. Will entered the room and flipped the light switch to see it matched the aesthetic of the rest of the house. Unlike his old home in Baltimore, this room was bathed in shades of light blue and white, overlooking the bluff. The bed was large with an ornately carved bed frame and what looked like butter-soft silk bedclothes. Will went straight to a large framed sketch of the Florentine skyline that adorned one wall. Removing it, he found the wall safe and with shaking fingers, inputted the code. </p><p>It swung open with a click, revealing several piles of cash, two passport wallets containing what he assumed were fake IDs, two cell phones, and a small velvet box. Will removed the entire contents of the safe. He opened the wardrobe to find expensive clothes and luggage. He extracted a small suitcase and a duffel bag, placing the cash, wallets and box in the latter. As he turned on one of the phones and dialled the only number saved in the contacts, he started removing patterned socks, silk shirts, woollen trousers and what was probably exorbitantly priced underwear from Hannibal’s closet, dumping them haphazardly in the suitcase. </p><p>“Hello? Hannibal?” came a groggy accented voice.</p><p>“Chiyoh, it’s me, Will.”</p><p>He was greeted with silence. He removed a pair of expensive leather Oxfords and dumped them into the suitcase. After a moment, he also added a pair of velvet slippers with an amused snort.</p><p>“Will, to what do I owe the pleasure?” said Chiyoh dryly, listening to the sounds of his packing.</p><p>He got straight to the point.</p><p>“We are at the house on the bluff. Hannibal is injured and dying. We need your help.”</p><p>“What does he need?”</p><p>Will thought fast.</p><p>“Bring the boat. We will need medical supplies. Painkillers, antibiotics, IV fluids. He’s been shot, broken his leg, lost a lot of blood. We need a place to lie low.”</p><p>“You will be coming with us?”</p><p>Will bristled.</p><p>“Yes,” he said, in a short, clipped tone. </p><p>“Did you shoot him?” she asked. He heard her bed rustling in the background. He hoped she was getting up.</p><p>“I did not.”</p><p>“Then it is your lucky day, Will Graham.”</p><p>“I did push us off a cliff however.”</p><p>More silence. Perhaps it would have been better to hide that particular detail. Oh well. He zipped up the suitcase.</p><p>“I assume that is how he broke his leg,” she said coolly.</p><p>“You would assume correctly,” he replied, closing the safe and replacing the sketch. No doubt the FBI would go over every inch of the house and find it. What they would not find would be its contents or Will’s fingerprints anywhere near it.</p><p>“Yet you call to save his life,” she said curiously. </p><p>“I have had a baptism of sorts. If I live, then he lives.”</p><p>“You are insane.”</p><p>He smiled sardonically.</p><p>“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But then again, so is he.”</p><p>“A madness shared by two,” she murmured.</p><p>“Our very own folie à deux.”</p><p>She seemed to consider that for a moment.</p><p>“I will be there in fifteen minutes. Meet me outside,” she said and disconnected the phone.</p><p>He arranged the wardrobe to look as though nothing had been obviously removed and closed it. Hauling the duffel bag and suitcase into the hallway outside took effort but he persisted, muscles trembling. Leaving the suitcase where it was, he took the duffel bag into the room Hannibal had shown him earlier to be his own. </p><p>This room was also blue, but a different shade, one that seemed to meld with a grey. The furniture in it was wooden and sturdy, the bed far more utilitarian than Hannibal’s own, placed next to a bookshelf stocked with titles that he knew he had once owned in Wolf Trap. It was clear that Hannibal had put effort into this space. Will opened his wardrobe. He had gotten a glimpse of it before when he had changed earlier. It was filled with clothes in his size. Soft but expensive looking flannels, denim and cotton button downs in solid block colours, lightly patterned dress shirts and trousers, a suit - vivid blue paired with a lighter blue chambray shirt and a blue tie - and even undershirts and underwear. </p><p>Will packed as much as he could fit in the duffel bag, hesitating over the suit. Taking it would be ridiculous, really. They were going to be on the run - a suit was not necessary. Will didn’t even particularly like wearing suits. But the idea of leaving it here for law enforcement to find made heat rush through him. It was expensive, tailored to his measurements exactly, made for him and kept in a safe house by a serial killer. But taking it felt like a statement. A declaration of sorts. He hesitated. He packed the suit.</p><p>Will half dragged, half carried, the now full suitcases and duffel bag outside, taking care to avoid blood and glass alike, dumping them unceremoniously next to one of the cars. He entered the house again, taking off the gloves and putting them back where he had found them. He opened the cabinets, fine with leaving fingerprints here. Let them know he had eaten at Hannibal’s table. He had done so many times in the past - what was one more? They wouldn’t be able to tell that he had eaten after his supposed death anyway.</p><p>Hannibal had said he had kept Miriam Lass and Abigail here once so Will hoped he had some non-perishables still kept in the house. He expected to find the fixings for gourmet meals but instead found a surprising amount of expired junk food and snacks. Things a teenager would eat. A pang went through his heart at the thought of Abigail living here in secret but he pushed it away. Now was not the time.</p><p>He found a can of peaches and cracked it open, eating them messily with a fork. Eating hurt and stung his cheek, and nausea rose in waves. Twice he gagged but managed to keep the food down, continuing to eat mechanically, more as a way to have something in his stomach than out of any genuine pleasure. He threw away the can, washed and dried his fork, and drank two whole glasses of water. Then he lurched outside to wait for Chiyoh. </p><p>The sight of Dolarhyde’s now congealing blood made him pause. In a stroke of either insight or insanity, he bent down with a wince and coated both of his hands in the blood. Walking to the edge of the bluff, he placed his bloody hands along the crumbling stone. Stepping back, he looked at his handiwork. They would find his fingerprints there and assume he had clung to the cliff face, and eventually fallen. There were pools of his and Hannibal’s blood here already - he hoped they assumed that he had fallen with him. He hurriedly pulled on his discarded wet socks and shoes, grimacing at the unpleasant sensation.</p><p>Energy now fading that he had completed all his tasks, he staggered over to the luggage and collapsed by the cars. Will had no idea how long his endeavours had taken him. Hannibal was down on the beach somewhere, alone and bleeding. Will should have torn his shirt and used it to apply pressure to his gunshot wound. He should have tried to splint his leg with driftwood. He should have done more. Gut roiling with sickening anxiety and head spinning from his own blood loss, he broke out in a cold sweat feeling his vision darken at the edges. He tilted his head back and looked up at the stars. He wondered if Hannibal was looking at them too.</p><p>A sudden bright light made him wince. A car was pulling up to the house. Will scrambled up, squinting, ready to defend himself when the car was parked and turned off its headlights. A slight figure emerged from the darkness.</p><p>“Chiyoh,” he said, voice shaking with gratitude.</p><p>“Where is he?”</p><p>Her voice was all business.</p><p>“Down on the beach. He couldn’t make it to the top.”</p><p>She looked at him and took a deep, calming breath.</p><p>“Get in the car.”</p><p>Chiyoh grabbed the luggage and put it in the boot as Will gingerly climbed into the four-wheel drive. There was a fairly large motorboat attached to the back of the car but Will was unable to make out any real details in the darkness. </p><p>“Can you drive a boat?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Will.</p><p>She turned the car around and onto a road that looped to the bottom of the cliff in curves that made Will feel dizzy. He rested his head against the cold glass of the window and tried to centre himself. Now that Chiyoh was here, he felt both calmer and more on edge. Calmer because he now had faith that help was on its way to Hannibal. On edge because he wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t kill him.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>“Down to the beach to collect Hannibal. Then to a surgeon who lives nearby.”</p><p>“Can we trust them?” he asked tersely.</p><p>“We can blackmail him.”</p><p>Will absorbed that for a moment. There was a lot about Chiyoh he didn’t know. </p><p>“What are we blackmailing him over?”</p><p>“He hurts little girls.”</p><p>Mischa. It always came back to Mischa.</p><p>“How can you be sure?” he asked after a second.</p><p>“Hannibal told me.”</p><p>“And you trust him?”</p><p>“Don’t you?”</p><p>Will was far too tired to even contemplate the answer to that question. Did he trust Hannibal? If he said yes, it would be a lie. If he said no, it would also be a lie. Could one ever truly trust a man who fashioned himself into a God while playing the Devil?</p><p>In what seemed like no time at all, they were down on the beach, pulling into a marina that Chiyoh assured him did not have functioning CCTV cameras. She stopped the car and, to Will's relief, hoisted the luggage onto the boat. Together, he and Chiyoh launched it into the water via the boat ramp. </p><p>“Get the boat started!” she ordered, shouting to make herself heard. “I will bring him back here.”</p><p>He watched as she got back in the car and drove away in the direction Will had explained she would find Hannibal. The car was soon gone and he watched its lights fade in the distance. He hoped she wouldn’t get bogged on the beach. He hoped she could find Hannibal. </p><p>Will grabbed the luggage and dragged it into the cabin. Inside was all white panels and raised wooden trim. There was a small but luxurious and functional kitchen, with a microwave, gas stove, fridge and freezer. A large double bed, mounted at a considerable height was edged with an island berth on either side. There was a small door that he presumed led to the bathroom. He placed the suitcase and bag on one of the berths and hurried back outside.</p><p>On deck, there was a small cockpit and he sat down and got the boat started. Unlike his own much smaller and cheaper sailboat, this motorboat was larger and clearly more expensive. Will had no time to sneer at Hannibal’s tastes. All he felt was a wary recognition that it would be easier to manouevre in his wounded state.</p><p>With the boat started, he realised he had left smears of drying blood all over the pristine leather of the steering. He rushed to the bathroom to wash his hands. The coppery scent rose in the tiny room and he began scrubbing at his skin, rubbing at the little whorls and ridges, plying his fingernails with soap and watching as crimson filled the sink. What, will these hands never be clean, he thought miserably. When his skin was raw and pink, he dried his hands and took a wet washcloth onto the deck to clean away the stains before they could ruin the leather irreparably. </p><p>The boat idled in the water. The petrol tank was full. The water tank was full. He went down and checked the fridge and storage. It was stocked with non-perishables and other various cooking ingredients. Chiyoh had done a good job. Too good of a job. Will had nothing left to do. He knew he should sit down and conserve his energy but he felt too keyed up. A thousand awful scenarios ran through his mind. He slumped on the couches on the deck and waited. And waited.</p><p>He must have dozed a little because suddenly he heard a car approaching. He looked groggily over the edge of the boat to see Chiyoh park the car and remove a wheelchair. She lugged an unconscious Hannibal onto it and quickly brought him along the jetty towards the boat. Will quickly got up and moved the boat so it was alongside the jetty. With difficulty, he and Chiyoh moved both Hannibal and the wheelchair onto the boat, letting him rest flat on the deck.</p><p>“Is he alive?” asked Will, heart in his throat.</p><p>“Yes but only just. He is breathing and his heart is beating but not for long. He has bled much. I have tied a scarf as tightly as I could over the gunshot wound to stem the flow but he needs help. I need you to get the boat away from these cliffs and move south.”</p><p>“What about the car?” asked Will. </p><p>“Give me a moment,” she said.</p><p>She hopped off the boat and ran back to the car, driving away. In the meantime, Will checked Hannibal’s pulse, holding his wrist with two fingers. Chiyoh was right, a pulse was there, but it was very, very weak. He did not have long to live. Will stroked his fingers down the long scar on Hannibal’s wrist, courtesy of Matthew Brown. How innocent he looked in his slumber. How safe. Will could throw him overboard and drive off and no one would be able to do anything about it.</p><p>He shivered. </p><p>Will heard Chiyoh’s hurried footsteps before he saw her approach, occupied as he was with Hannibal.</p><p>“I have left the car in long term parking. No one will be able to trace it back to Hannibal or you. I will be back in three days to move it,” she informed him.</p><p>Will nodded, his hand still wrapped around Hannibal’s wrist.</p><p>“Will,” she said softly. “Will, we need to go.”</p><p>He looked up into her big, beautiful eyes.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, unwillingly letting go of Hannibal.</p><p>He rose to sit at the cockpit and guided the boat out of the marina, away from the carnage and confusion as the sky began to lighten. A new day was beginning.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Earthly_Delights">Garden of Earthly Delights</a> is a reference to the painting by Hieronymus Bosch.</p><p>The suit Hannibal chooses for Will is <a href="https://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Hugh-Dancy-Essential-Homme-February-March-2015-Cover-Photo-Shoot-003-800x943.jpg">Tommy Hilfiger</a> because he is a bougie bitch. He's also a hardcore romantic and an aesthete so he picks something he thinks will bring out the colour of Will's eyes. Coincidentally, Will's bedroom is also painted to compliment his eyes. </p><p>"He tilted his head back and looked up at the stars. He wondered if Hannibal was looking at them too," is a reference to deleted dialogue from the <a href="http://livingdeadguy.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/H306-Dolce-121314.pdf">Dolce script</a>.</p><p><a href="https://www.backcoveyachts.com/yachts/downeast-37/">This</a> is the boat that Hannibal buys and asks Chiyoh to keep. It can cost upwards of $500 000 US and Hannibal had it modified to include a gas stove.</p><p>"What, will these hands ne’er be clean" comes from <a href="https://www.sparknotes.com/nofear/shakespeare/macbeth/page_180/">Act 5 Scene 1</a> of Macbeth.</p><p>Big shout out to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredTree">Egg</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelblack">Moth</a> for feedback and pointers. I really appreciate your thoughts. 💖💖</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! I have no real posting schedule because I am a gremlin but this fic is just getting good so bear with me as more comes!</p><p>Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings <a href="http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning for medical procedures in this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The journey south was one fraught with pain and anxiety. Using the cover of the rapidly fading darkness, he set course away from the marina, letting Chiyoh take care of Hannibal, trusting her to make sure that he was okay. The fabric she had wrapped tightly around him to staunch the flow of blood from the bullet wound was soaked through with blood. She added more bandages tightly around his torso, applying even more pressure to try and stop the bleeding, making Hannibal grunt a little with pain.</p><p>“Where are we going?” he yelled over the salt spray.</p><p>Chiyoh came up next to him, resting a hand on his chair, too dignified to yell.</p><p>“The surgeon is a man named Dr Janek Dimosthenis. He has a home with a view of the ocean and a private jetty. It is a few more miles south, I will point it out to you.”</p><p>Will concentrated on driving the boat, his head heavy now with sleep and his world spinning. He desperately needed to rest. Whatever food he had eaten before he had left had given him a small burst of energy that was now rapidly fading. He was more aware of time than he had ever been before. Each second seemed precious and wasted - more time stretching the tenuous line that suspended Hannibal from life. </p><p>“Give me your phone,” Chiyoh said suddenly, knocking him out of his musings.</p><p>Will felt in his pocket but his phone was no longer there. It must have been lost in the fall.</p><p>“I don't have it,” he said.</p><p>“Good,” was her only response before she fell silent, gazing at the shoreline.</p><p>The houses along the water were more mansions than anything else, grandiose monstrosities that stood towering in the darkness. There were boats too, ones that dwarfed Hannibal’s, tasteless in their extravagance. Chiyoh pointed to a property several feet away with a wooden jetty protruding from the water’s edge. Will steered the boat alongside it, turning it off and blinking suddenly at the silence. He wondered if they had been heard by anyone, cruising along the water so loudly. Shaking the worrying thought away, he secured the boat to the wooden poles of the jetty with rope as Chiyoh gathered her own bags and shouldered her rifle. Will hadn’t even noticed her bringing it on board. </p><p>“Help me get him off board,” she said, taking the wheelchair and putting it on the jetty.</p><p>Will and Chiyoh lifted Hannibal with difficulty out of the boat and into the chair. He groaned as his broken leg was jostled and Will felt a sympathetic pang of pain. Pocketing the keys, Chiyoh led them both silently into the darkness.</p><p>“Bring him.”</p><p>The path up to the house was made of some sort of flat gray stone, long and winding, and lined with small solar lights that glowed gently like fireflies he had seen a lifetime ago. Everything felt hazy. The only real thing was Hannibal and the sound of his wheezing breaths that came far, far too slowly.</p><p>Will looked at Chiyoh confidently striding ahead of them, hoping against hope that her plan worked. </p><p>“Hannibal doesn’t approve of guns. He thinks they lack intimacy.”</p><p>The statement did not seem to faze her.</p><p>“I have no interest in being intimate with a man such as this. Or any man.”</p><p>They walked for a moment, letting that sink in. Then she continued.</p><p>“Besides, Hannibal has never had a problem with my rifle before.”</p><p>“I suppose he hasn’t,” said Will, a little bitterly, thinking back to Florence. Here he was, dragging Hannibal to safety, going against the law, against common sense, just to save his life. Hannibal had been so quick to try to kill him then. </p><p>“Does this doctor live alone?” he asked after an awkward pause. </p><p>“He is divorced. And as far as I know, he is single.”</p><p>Good, thought Will, I have no interest in hurting innocent bystanders.</p><p>They reached the back gate, and Chiyoh silently gestured to Will to stand out of sight of the back door. She removed a small lockpick and knelt down to silently open the door. Will watched with bated breath as she worked, until the lock disengaged with a quiet click. She swung the door open and walked inside, leaving Will to follow in her wake. </p><p>They walked through what appeared to be a large sunroom with large couches and minimalist design. The room looked sterile and largely unused. What a waste, thought Will derisively. Chiyoh led him through rooms with doors wide enough to fit a small bed and tall enough to handle a small giant. The house was simply massive.</p><p>Finally they reached what appeared to be the dining room. Chiyoh strode along the walls searching for something as Will settled Hannibal near the table and checked his pulse one more time. Suddenly, light flooded his senses, bright and foreign in the total darkness of the house. </p><p>“What are you doing?” he hissed.</p><p>“We are going to wake him anyway,” she said, shrugging. </p><p>She went over to the kitchen and removed two mugs, filling them with water. She brought them over to Will.</p><p>“Drink one mug yourself then make him drink the other. I will be back.”</p><p>Will realised just how thirsty he was. His shirt was stuck to him with cold sweat and blood, and the water tasted sweet and wonderful. He finished his mug then cradled Hannibal’s head in his hands. </p><p>“Hannibal,” he whispered. “Hannibal, wake up.”</p><p>Hannibal groaned something incomprehensible, perhaps in another language. Will tilted his head up and held the mug to his lips.</p><p>“Here, drink this,” he said, allowing the water to slide into Hannibal’s mouth and watching him instinctively swallow with some satisfaction.</p><p>He fed Hannibal the water in small portions, and as he went to put the mugs away in the sink, he heard a panicked voice from above him getting closer and louder. </p><p>“I swear, I have no cash on the property. But you can take whatever you want, lady! Art, electronics, I even have a doctor’s surgery on my property, you can take the drugs! I got fentanyl, oxycontin, what do you want? Oh god, just please just don’t shoot me!”</p><p>Janek Dimosthenis was a once handsome, now panicked and sweaty man, with tan skin offset by dark hair and dark eyebrows. Barefoot, dressed in blue pajamas, he looked supremely vulnerable. He was being led into his own dining room with Chiyoh’s rifle trained into his back. Chiyoh seemed content to let him stew in his own fear and anxiety, allowing him to babble until he caught sight of the bruised and bloody visitors that had made themselves at home in his living space. </p><p>He first stared a little uncomprehendingly at Will, then caught sight of the insensate Hannibal in the wheelchair. At that, his eyes widened in horror, and Will could see recognition settle inside him.</p><p>“What is <em> he </em>doing here? He was imprisoned, wasn’t he?”</p><p>Finally Chiyoh spoke.</p><p>“For a man being held at gunpoint, you ask far too many questions.”</p><p>That shut him up. He gulped a little.</p><p>“Dr Lecter has a gunshot wound to the abdomen, suspected broken ribs and a broken leg. Mr Graham has stab wounds to the cheek and shoulder. Both have major blood loss. You are going to treat these two men for their injuries.”</p><p>It was not a question but a statement, one spoken so calmly and with a matter of fact tone, that Will was impressed with Chiyoh’s surety and level headedness.</p><p>“He doesn’t need me, he needs a hospital!” protested the man.</p><p>“Let me rephrase,” said Chiyoh darkly, “you <em> will </em> treat these two men for their injuries <em> right now</em>.”</p><p>She cocked her rifle and prodded his back. Dimosthenis whimpered. Will almost felt sorry for him. Almost.</p><p>“We’ll need to go to the surgery,” he said faintly. </p><p>“Lead the way,” ordered Chiyoh.</p><p>They followed a shaking Dimosthenis through a hallway and to the front of his house. He slid his feet into slippers, and removed a set of keys from a hook on the wall, glancing with terror at Chiyoh then Hannibal then Will. As he opened the front door of his house, he hesitated and glanced around in the softly breaking dawn light. </p><p>“Do not run,” said Chiyoh, sensing correctly his train of thought. “I will shoot you, and I promise, I never miss.”</p><p>“I’d listen to her, if I were you,” said Will quietly.</p><p>Chiyoh shot him a look, smiled slightly then turned back to the frightened man.</p><p>He led them out of the house towards a fairly large building set to the side of his home. The air was cool and crisp and Will shivered as they walked. In large, ostentatious letters, it proclaimed ‘Doctor’s surgery’ followed by ‘Dr Janek Dimosthenis, MD, FAAEM, FACS’ underneath. It took Dimosthenis three tries to open the surgery, he was shaking so badly. Will felt his brow crease with concern - if he was this unsteady, how could he properly operate on Hannibal?</p><p>“Chiyoh,” he said in an undertone as they entered, Dimosthenis turning on the lights and looking at them nervously. “Back off a bit.”</p><p>She looked at him incredulously.</p><p>“He has to do as we say.”</p><p>“He won’t be able to do anything if you keep that gun trained on him the whole time. He’s terrified.”</p><p>“Good, a man like him should be terrified.”</p><p>“And I agree with you, but just let him calm down enough to help Hannibal.”</p><p>She looked at Hannibal prone in the wheelchair then at the petrified Dimosthenis, and sighed, pulling her gun away from where it was trained squarely at the man’s chest, relenting to Will’s entreaty.</p><p>Will turned to the doctor.</p><p>“I promise you, no one is going to shoot you. We’re not here to hurt you - we just need your help. Just do this for us and we’ll leave,” he said, trying to placate him.</p><p>“Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re going to kill me to tie up your loose ends!” the doctor shouted, glancing suddenly around the waiting room, looking for some kind of weapon. </p><p>Chiyoh’s hands twitched around her rifle.</p><p>“I give you my word, no one will kill you. The gun is just a precaution,” said Will, raising his hands. “Please, it’s your duty as a doctor to provide help to those who need it.”</p><p>He looked straight into Dimosthenis’ eyes and tried to show his sincerity as best he could. He was itching to get Hannibal into surgery. It had been far too long since their fall. The bandages on Hannibal’s abdomen were pricked with red, the bleeding not stopping entirely despite Chiyoh’s best efforts.</p><p>“You give me your word, that neither Hannibal nor this woman will kill me?” he asked slowly.</p><p>“Hannibal is in no fit position to do anything, just look at him,” said Will, gesturing at the slumped man in the wheelchair. “As for her, I give you my word.”</p><p>Chiyoh remained stony faced and impassive but Will must have gotten through to him, because Dimosthenis relented, his shoulders sagging with relief.</p><p>“Alright,” he said. “Follow me.”</p><p>He led them into a small surgical suite and together, he and Will placed Hannibal on the bed. They left Hannibal there for a moment, Chiyoh watching over him like a silent sentinel, while he took Will outside to a small triage room with three beds.</p><p>“Lie down here,” he instructed, going to a small basin and washing his hands thoroughly.</p><p>Will took off his bloody and salt creased shirt and eased himself down onto the bed. Being flat made his head throb and his body ache. He groaned with pain and relief, finally letting his battered body rest. He felt exhausted to his core, and wanted to sleep more than anything else, but his mind raced and he wondered what would happen to them. He had made a promise to save Hannibal’s life, but would he be able to keep it? And given what he knew about the man, would he even want to? He had killed just a few hours ago and enjoyed it. Could he kill again?</p><p>Dimosthenis returned, hands in medical gloves, mask over his face and holding some medical paraphernalia in a small plastic tub. Silently, he cleaned the skin around the crook of Will’s elbow with an alcohol swab and inserted a small IV cannula. Then he attached plastic tubing and hooked him up to a drip of saline solution. He injected several vials into the saline bag and adjusted the flow rate.</p><p>“What were those?” asked Will groggily.</p><p>“Intravenous painkillers and antibiotics. Your wounds need to be stitched but the biggest concern is blood loss and infection,” he explained.</p><p>Will nodded hazily. </p><p>“I’m going to stitch you up now. I’m giving you local anaesthetic to ease the pain.”</p><p>Will felt a needle prick the skin of his face near the wound, and in a few moments, he felt a wondrous lack of pain and a numbing sensation. He saw as his wound was flushed and cleaned but didn’t feel it - an awfully unsettling sensation to have. Then he was vaguely aware of a tugging on his face as Dimosthenis worked the wound close with tiny stitches.</p><p>Tutting, Dimosthenis said, “The edges are so jagged, whoever stabbed you really moved the blade about.”</p><p>Will flashed back to Dolarhyde stabbing his face and using the leverage of the knife to lift him bodily and throw him out the window. Nauseated by the image in his own mind of his own ragged flesh combined with the thought of his skin being tugged back together, Will closed his eyes and tried to wade back into the quiet of the stream. Dimosthenis worked quietly for a few more minutes then made a satisfied noise. </p><p>“All done,” murmured the doctor. “Now your shoulder.”</p><p>The process was repeated, but this time Will felt far more prepared as the doctor injected a second local anaesthetic into him. He felt his chest be cleaned of grime and sweat and blood, and sighed internally at the thought of a hot shower. This wound was far less irregular and Dimosthenis stitched quickly. Will thought that, rather paradoxically, he was keen to return to Hannibal. Perhaps he thought his survival depended on that of his patient’s. Perhaps he wasn’t wrong - he wasn’t sure what Chiyoh would do to the man if Hannibal didn’t survive. He wasn't sure what he himself would do.</p><p>Dimosthenis stood back and examined his handiwork.</p><p>“Well, this is as good as I can manage now. Hopefully the fluids replenish your blood loss. I’ll go take care of your...friend. You should try to sleep.”</p><p>Then he was gone.</p><p>Will listened to his receding footsteps and tried to relax. He wondered what would happen now. Anxiety seemed to settle in his chest. While he had been moving and in charge, it had felt reassuring to know Hannibal was being taken care of. Now he felt helpless and broken, incapable of asserting control over the situation he found himself in. Hannibal required surgery and it would likely be hours until the operation was complete. Dimosthenis had no help other than Chiyoh’s, and it was clear to Will that he did not trust her. </p><p>Will was also afraid of Dimosthenis calling the authorities while he and Hannibal slept. He wanted to stay awake to make sure that the operation was successful, to make sure they wouldn't be arrested after. On top of that, Hannibal had lost so much blood - would IV fluids be enough to help him or would he need blood? Will didn't even know his blood type. Perhaps Chiyoh did, but what if Dimosthenis didn't keep any blood in his surgery? Will’s mind ran backwards and forwards with questions and riddles. He fell into an uneasy fitful sleep, his mind running wild.</p><p>Images of Dimosthenis merged with Dolarhyde. He imagined Dolarhyde performing surgery on an insensate Hannibal who seemed to merge with Will himself at times, but instead of healing, the wounds gaped and flowed with black blood. He imagined stabbing Dimosthenis in the gut, his frightened face gasping out, “You promised!” in accusation. Savagely, Will pushed him off a cliff to the sound of thunderous applause. He woke in a panic and gasped with pain. The IV fluid had run through completely and the clock on the wall opposite showed he had been asleep for an hour. </p><p>He could hear the beeping of a faint heart monitor from the surgical suite and its steady pulse settled him. Hannibal was still alive. Relief like he had not yet felt washed over him, and he finally felt his body relax for the first time in hours.</p><p>He took stock of himself. His face and chest were still numb. He was thirsty and wanted water but there was no one to assist him. The thought of climbing out of the bed was laughable. Although the pain in his body had been largely numbed, he still felt a soreness and a drowsiness that reassured him that standing would only be a precursor to falling.</p><p>Listening to the steady beating of Hannibal’s heart, he drifted back to sleep, this time feeling a lot more peaceful. His dreams were vague, more snatches of vignettes than a true story, and filled with pale yellows and blues. He was eating at Hannibal’s house in Baltimore, sitting at the head of the table. He had cooked fish and jambalaya and cornbread, and Hannibal was his guest, eating delicately with bloody teeth. He was walking his dogs with Molly, holding her soft hands before smiling at her and ripping her throat out with his teeth. He was tossing a ball at Walter, and saw it get caught by a smiling Abigail who threw it at a raven haired unnamed child he had never seen before. He was teaching at Quantico, showing a presentation of the men he had murdered, and his students weren't afraid of him.</p><p>He was woken by a loud shout and a crash. Heart racing from the dreams, he leapt out of bed, grasping the IV stand and rolling it with him as he stumbled to the door of the suite. Yanking it open he found Dimosthenis crumpled unconscious on the floor, Chiyoh standing over him.</p><p>“What did you do?” he demanded.</p><p>“He is not dead, merely knocked out. His job here is done for now so he needed to be restrained.”</p><p>Her tone was short yet shaky. Will stared at her, suddenly realising she had a cannula in her own arm and was swaying.</p><p>“Woah, lie down,” he said, guiding her to a second bed that had been shifted alongside Hannibal's. “You gave him your blood?” he asked.</p><p>“I have type O blood, I am a universal donor and Hannibal has AB+ so he can receive from anyone. He needed two units minimum so I volunteered,” she said, lying down.</p><p>For a moment he stared at Hannibal, his face lax with sleep, IV fluids pumping saline and glucose and God knows what else into him. His pale face was covered in an oxygen mask, and his leg was splinted. His wound was wrapped in a clean white bandage. Will greedily ran his eyes over him then reluctantly turned back to Chiyoh.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do?”</p><p>“There are handcuffs in my bag in the lobby. Cuff him to the cupboard handles.” </p><p>Will followed her request, restraining the unconscious man to the cupboards in his own surgical suite.</p><p>“What else?” he asked once he was done.</p><p>“See if you can log in to his email and let all his clients and staff know he will be unavailable for this week.”</p><p>Will stared at her. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“It will delay any suspicion over his disappearance.”</p><p>“We are not killing him.”</p><p>“We do not have a choice.”</p><p>“I made him a promise.” </p><p>“I made no such promise.”</p><p>They stared stubbornly at each other, neither of them backing down.</p><p>“You do not know where your loyalties lie,” she said finally.</p><p>“And you do?” he shot back, stung. “That man just saved your brother’s life.”</p><p>“On fear of death. He has harmed more lives than he has saved, I assure you.”</p><p>“Hannibal always keeps his promises - I do not see why I cannot keep mine.”</p><p>“Because Hannibal is my priority and you are not,” she said bluntly. “I am forced to take you into consideration because of his affections for you, but I do not trust you. You have hurt him repeatedly.”</p><p>“I have had reason to,” said Will quietly.</p><p>“This is now the second time you have tried to kill him,” she persisted. </p><p>“The second time in front of you. Only thing is, you weren't around to shoot me this time.”</p><p>Chiyoh was silent for a moment. </p><p>“If you only knew the depth of his feelings. He thinks the world of you. You are and always have been a divinity to him.”</p><p>Will laughed hollowly. </p><p>“Didn't you know Chiyoh? Real gods knife you up.”</p><p>Chiyoh was silent. Then she relented.</p><p>“I will not kill him but send the e-mail anyway. It buys us time. We can stay here for a week if need be as Hannibal recovers and no one will come searching for Dr Dimosthenis.”</p><p>Will stared at her eyes, trying to ascertain whether or not she was telling the truth then acquiesced. He had no choice but to trust her. The receptionist's computer had a sticky note attached to the monitor with the username and password printed neatly in large handwriting. Scoffing slightly at the incompetence, he logged in and sent the email to all staff and patients, citing an unforeseen personal emergency that required immediate attention and privacy for a week.</p><p>He logged off then drank two glasses of water from the water dispenser to ease his dry mouth. The clock on the receptionist’s desk showed it was 10am on a Sunday. It had taken nearly four and a half hours for the doctor to operate on Hannibal. He ate the biscuits he found in the staff kitchenette before taking them and some water for Chiyoh, thinking she probably needed some sustenance after giving blood. </p><p>She accepted his offerings silently then closed her eyes and, in clear dismissal, went to sleep. Will stood in the corner of the room staring at the strange scene in front of him. An unconscious, bandaged Hannibal, alongside a dozing Chiyoh, her rifle beside her bed, and their doctor, knocked out and handcuffed on the floor. For a long time he stood there, just staring at the situation he had gotten himself into, thinking that now was the moment he could simply walk away. Pass through the house, back onto the boat, and back to his family.</p><p>He returned to the triage room and went back to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the time between updates! It was my birthday week and I got super busy! The next chapter will hopefully be up a little sooner.</p><p>1) "You are and always have been a divinity to him," is a quote from Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina (translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky).<br/>2) "Real gods knife you up," is a quote from <a href="https://www.peachmgzn.com/talin">"I keep a strange list" by Talin Tahajian</a>.</p><p>Big shout out to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredTree">Egg</a> for giving me all the medical advice that came in handy for this chapter. I am so grateful to her.</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! More to come!</p><p>Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings <a href="http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning for offscreen canon typical violence and brief discussion of suicide.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Will was walking through the woods, searching for something. He was barefoot and shivering, dressed in just a shirt and boxers, feeling the roots of the trees and decaying fallen foliage crunch beneath his feet. The wind ruffled through his hair as he pushed his way through dense trees and shrubs. Hannibal, he was looking for Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no way of knowing how or why, but he knew Hannibal was somewhere here and waiting for him. He burst through a copse of trees to a clearing. In the middle of the grassy glade stood the wooden steps from the bottom of the cliff, leading to an out of sight destination. Will knew at once that Hannibal was at the top this time. With a start, he ran to the steps and began climbing. This time, his body was hale and healthy and the climb passed in a blur. He felt himself get stronger as he climbed, pace increasing until he felt as though his feet were barely touching the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he reached the top he saw him. Hannibal. Not as he had once been, in a prison jumpsuit, or broken and bloody, but fierce and whole. He was dressed in a light grey suit with a darker grey windowpane pattern, hair long just as it once used to be. Will too, was now wearing a suit, a deep red one with a dark black shirt. Will looked down at himself in wonder, then back at Hannibal, as if to share his surprise. It was then that he saw that in his hands, Hannibal held a pomegranate and a curved linoleum knife. A strange fear rushed through him and the scar on his stomach twinged. Before Will could say or do anything, Hannibal cut the pomegranate in half and threw the knife away. It clattered down the steps and out of sight. Holding one half of the pomegranate to him, he smiled at Will, encouraging. Will smiled back but as he went to take the fruit, a sudden awful sensation of fear went through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around to see the steps he had climbed were no wooden steps, but bodies. Dead bodies. Hundreds if not thousands of corpses, all wearing white, and covered in blood, starkly red and oozing. They were moulded grotesquely, limbs askew and organs cascading. He recognised some of the faces. Margot, Alana, Jack, Bedelia. He had climbed their bodies without a thought, without a lick of empathy at their plight. And at the bottom of this blood soaked staircase stood Molly, dressed in her wedding gown, pretty as the day he had met her, holding Walter’s hand. They both stared up at him, faces struck with horror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will!” she called. “Will, come back to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached out to him, one arm outstretched. Her wedding ring glinted in the moonlight. For a few long moments he stared at her, a strange tug in his chest towards her beautiful face, her kind heart, willing to forgive him even now. He turned back to Hannibal, the austere lines of his face handsome and tempting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Will,” he said, “what will it be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will cupped Hannibal’s hand and lowered his head. Trembling and obedient, he ate those burning seeds out of his hand, tearing into the fruit with his teeth, bloodying his jaw with red juice. When he looked up, he saw Hannibal’s face filled with triumph and joy, a fierce wildness in the dark that fit into the forest. Stepping close to him, Hannibal embraced him, rubbing his face against Will’s and smearing the juice against their skin. Will closed his eyes and slid his arms around him in response, clinging to the fabric of his suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened them and looked up, he saw Christ Pantocrator, enrobed in blue, watching them silently. They had somehow arrived in the Norman Chapel, at the entrance to the chambers of Hannibal’s mind. He glanced away only to realise they were surrounded by mirrors. With a jolt, he saw he was in the arms of a bestial creature, large and black, with hooved feet and curved antlers that seemed to encase Will’s body against his. Will made eye contact with himself, his blue eyes wide and dark. He clung harder to the stag man, and smiled, victorious. He had found his monster and made him his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will,” said Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannibal,” whispered Will burying his face back into Hannibal’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will,” he said again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannibal,” he said, conviction filling his voice as he held onto Hannibal tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will,” came the voice, insistent and pressing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will blinked awake, his eyes fluttering in the gloam. He felt stiff and sore and disorientated. He glanced down at his arm to see the IV had been removed. When he had slept it had been mid morning but the sky outside was dark. Had he slept the whole day away? Suddenly, he remembered the voice that had woken him. He turned his head to see Hannibal laying on the bed next to him, hooked up to an IV of his own, awake and eyes bright and intelligent once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannibal,” he breathed, drinking in the sight of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, so you said repeatedly,” he replied, lips twitching upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will flushed and chose to ignore that comment. Hannibal had changed out of his bloody clothes, and was dressed in a maroon sweater and loose black pants that Will didn’t recognise. His left leg was in a cast, and his skin was bruised in places. He breathed a little shallowly, no doubt from broken ribs of his own, and there was a bulk under his sweater that indicated bandages because of his gunshot wound. But despite it all, there was an air of contentment around him that Will hadn’t seen in so long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have I been out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is currently 7pm in the evening,” said Hannibal crisply. “If you feel up to it, Chiyoh has made us some dinner. We have trespassed on Dr Dimosthenis’ hospitality for too long, and aim to leave tonight if possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. Now that he focused on it, his stomach rumbled. Apart from the peaches and biscuits, he had not eaten anything and the hunger now made itself known as the sense of danger he had felt before faded. Somehow, knowing Hannibal was safe and awake made him relax. God only knew what sort of a man he was to be feeling this way in the presence of such a dangerous man but Will couldn’t deny it. He was at peace. If a little hungry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is Chiyoh?” he asked, looking around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is in the main house, removing any DNA evidence of our presence there. She has already done so in the operating theatre and other remaining parts of the good doctor’s surgery rooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apart from these beds,” pointed out Will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All in good time,” said Hannibal, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you eaten?” asked Will, easing himself onto his right side gingerly to avoid pressing too much weight on his dislocated shoulder before sitting up slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would have been rude to eat without you,” replied Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it wouldn’t do to be rude now, would it?” asked Will, smiling carefully, trying to avoid tugging on the now closed wound on his face too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly not,” said Hannibal, smiling back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Will stood up and took a moment to steady himself. Hannibal eyed Will, cataloguing his injuries, drifting from the stab wound on his face to both shoulders and finally settling somewhere on Will’s torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a medical sling for you to use, Will. You will need to wear it for a minimum of three weeks,” said Hannibal, pointing towards the end of Will’s bed. Will slid his left arm through the sling and slung the strap over his opposite shoulder, taking care to make sure it didn’t dig into his tender stab wound. Then he walked to the kitchenette where a tray of food covered in foil sat on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting it one handed and being grateful that it wasn’t overly heavy, he brought it back to the triage room. He placed it onto the small overbed table with wheels as Hannibal raised his bed into an upright position. Will pushed the table over Hannibal’s lap before dragging a chair next to him. Hannibal took off the foil to reveal a container of what looked to be warm miso soup as well as toasted bread cut into small chunks and covered in garlic butter. He opened the container and Will ladled the soup into two small bowls, handing one to Hannibal and taking the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal waited until Will was seated and only raised the bowl to his lips as Will did. They swallowed simultaneously, the salty, savoury flavour of the miso delicious on his lips. Suddenly ravenous, Will set down his bowl onto the table and reached out to take a piece of bread and dip it into the soup. He forced himself to chew slowly and avoid agitating the wound in his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, isn’t it?” asked Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will thought he could detect a note of pride in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is. Will Chiyoh not be joining us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has already eaten. She had other things to attend to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will huffed a quiet laugh and tilted his head in amused acknowledgement at the euphemism. Other things to attend to. Namely, erasing evidence, and aiding and abetting known fugitives. It must be hungry work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, they ate in silence. Will had had a dozen things he wanted to say to Hannibal once he woke but somehow all he could do now was stare at him. Hannibal was alive. Will felt a strange sense of accomplishment, of power, at saving his life. His eyes flickered over Hannibal’s eyes, his throat as he swallowed, his fingers as he held the bread between them. He looked weak still, skin pale from blood loss, but lucid and awake and real and alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been years since they’d shared a meal. With a start, Will realised the last meal Hannibal had cooked for him had also been soup. Soup Hannibal had fed to him before he had sawed Will’s head open. He winced at the memory, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong, Will?” asked Hannibal, noticing everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will hesitated, then said, “I feel as though the past is a haunted house I cannot get out from. Its hallways and corridors are one long labyrinth that sucks me inside. There is a presence right at my shoulder that won’t let me forget.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to forget the past, Will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you?” Will shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal looked pensive, gaze shifting down to his soup which he finished in one gulp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgetting the past is an exercise in futility,” he said finally. “It is not in my nature to regret my actions. Last night, for example, gives me no trouble whatsoever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The trouble is not in dying for a friend, but in finding a friend worth dying for,” said Will slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or dying with,” remarked Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will stared at him. All of him. He looked Hannibal in the eyes and asked, “Are you going to try to kill me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I want to do that?” asked Hannibal, genuinely puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just tried to kill you. I pushed you off a cliff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did not. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulled </span>
  </em>
  <span>me off a cliff, with you by my side. We soared through the ether of our past and landed in the immediacy of our future. And if I may offer some advice, if you want to convince me that you want me dead, Will, you will have to do it a time not immediately after you have saved my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will looked at Hannibal, bandaged and broken, and felt no small amount of incredulity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hold no grudges against me for pulling you off a cliff?” he pushed. “Not even after all your injuries?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop quoting Vonnegut and give me a straight answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal’s lips quirked in that familiar way that Will knew to be his smile when Will said or did something that pleased him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I hold any grudges against you, Will, then they do not concern last night. I let you pull me off that cliff. We killed a dragon together less than twenty four hours ago. I myself have never felt such sweet and easy peace. Tell me Will, have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will considered his question. He thought back to the night before, the bloodlust that had raged through him, their murderous pas de deux. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal smiled, averted his eyes, contentment bleeding off of him in waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you do hold grudges?” asked Will, curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing strong enough to try to kill you,” he said. “In any case, this is something to be discussed another time. If you are finished eating then we must leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to the boat?” asked Will, concerns momentarily assuaged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. We are sailing to Spain if you feel up to the challenge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sailed to Italy. Spain is no challenge,” said Will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal smiled now, widely, a thing with teeth just like his hunger. He pushed the table away and Will rolled it off to the side as Hannibal began to try to get out of bed. There was amusement on his face as he pushed himself off the raised bed and into an upright position. With a flourish that somehow managed to be elegant, even at a time like this, he pushed away the thin white sheet that covered his body and attempted to move his legs off the bed, facing Will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will watched in muted fascination, curious at Hannibal’s tenacity in the wake of his pain. No doubt he had been given heavy painkillers but it could not be comfortable to have to move himself. Yet there was not a flicker of a grimace on his face. Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes as Hannibal reached the part where he required help to stand. Silently, they stared at one another, waiting for the other to crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a put upon sigh, Hannibal asked delicately, “Would you be so kind as to help me up, Will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will tilted his head slightly, a smile pulling at his lips. Hannibal blinked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chiyoh had left Hannibal’s wheelchair in the corner of the triage room. Will removed the overbed table with all their dishes and his own chair, and rolled the wheelchair by Hannibal’s bed. He was once again reminded of Florence as he wound his right arm around Hannibal’s shoulders, gently helping him stand like Hannibal had once helped him. The wound in his shoulder stung a little but Will paid it no mind, making sure the weight was off Hannibal’s injured leg as he stood up. Quickly, he eased Hannibal into the chair, enjoying his newfound dependence on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal, on the other hand, looked supremely morose at having to sit in the chair. Will bit back a smile at his forlorn expression and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you crutches. You’ll be up in no time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that we’ve eaten, we need to take our medication,” he said, deigning not to respond to Will and pointing to two small bowls on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Medication?” asked Will, retrieving the bowls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Antibiotics, analgesics, and steroids,” explained Hannibal as Will got them both glasses of water. “We’ll need to take them for a little while yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They swallowed their medical cocktail as Will wondered where exactly they’d get the rest of the drugs. Perhaps they’d just steal them from the surgery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Dr Dimosthenis?” he asked, taking their dishes to the kitchen to wash them. “I assumed you got an x-ray before he put that cast on you. We need someone to remove your IV.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You assume correctly, Will,” said Hannibal. “But no matter, I can remove my own IV.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will rolled his eyes and slid on a glove, beginning to wash the dishes as Hannibal watched him through the kitchenette door. It was awkward work doing this one handed, the suds up to his wrist as he scrubbed at their bowls and glasses. Hannibal’s gaze burned him. He could feel it on him like a physical touch and he felt supremely self-conscious, aware of every movement. It was then that he realised that he was shirtless and had been the whole time they were talking. Goosebumps crept across his skin and he blushed, glad his back was to Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised he had never actually been shirtless in front of Hannibal. Or if he had been, he had been drugged or unconscious. Somehow, remaining this way felt like a choice. Another declaration - just like taking the suit from the house. Quickly, the dishes were cleaned and he put them away into the cupboards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can clean up everything here,” he said, turning around and resisting the urge to cover his chest with his arm. He looked critically at their beds in the triage room, positively teeming with their DNA.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave that to Chiyoh,” said Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when will Chiyoh be joining us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All in good time,” said Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will stared at him, a creeping suspicion dawning upon him. He and Hannibal had barely been in the house. So what was taking Chiyoh so much time to clean up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannibal, where is the doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal was quiet. He blinked once, seeming to consider Will’s question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is in the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will nodded jerkily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he dead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes, Will exhaled harshly. He opened them to look Hannibal in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Chiyoh kill him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal pursed his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a manner of speaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explain,” said Will, a myriad of emotions rising in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you well know, manipulation is an art, Will. It takes time and subtlety to compel someone to do what you would like them to do. Unless, of course, they are under a great deal of duress. Suffice it to say, our doctor was under a significant amount of stress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You convinced him die by suicide?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was simple enough to convince him to end it all,” he said, blasé. “A man like him has many skeletons in his closet. I simply pointed out that once he notified the authorities of our presence in our home, the police would search his property. Who knows what they might find? Things not easily explained for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought suicide was the enemy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in this case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will gritted his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you angry at the death of a man like him, Will? It is most unlike you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not angry,” said Will curtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what, may I ask, is the problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will sighed, chuckling at himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, only sometimes, I forget who you are. But it doesn’t take long to remind me. I mean, God, you’re barely mobile and you’ve killed a man in the scant few hours I was asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal was quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knowing who I am, what I am, do you regret it? Surviving the fall? Being here with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will looked down at the lines on his right palm. Some people said they foretold your future - life, love, luck. He wondered where his were taking him. Straight into the arms of the man in front of him, it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The time has come, Hannibal. I’ve realised that I can no longer deceive myself, that I am alive, that I am not to blame if God has made me so that I must live. Even if it is with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up to see Hannibal’s face, adoring and relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose, at the very least, the manner of his death was consistent with the promise I made him,” remarked Will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Chiyoh told me. Apart from this being the cleanest method of disposing of a witness, it also appealed to me for that reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then,” said Will. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They smiled at each other, the moment stretching into something soft. Will felt his heart thud a little in his chest, their eyes seeming to be the only two objects in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creak of the door made Will start as Chiyoh entered the surgery, her stride businesslike. She had changed into a different set of black clothing, this time wearing a leather jacket. She was carrying a shirt with a small check pattern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you both eaten?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Hannibal. “Will was kind enough to clean up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at Will’s bare chest before saying, “Get dressed. You leave immediately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You?” asked Will. “You’re not coming with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will clean up here before leaving in the dark of night. I still have the car to move from the marina. People will notice me on foot but there are many boats out on the water right now. You will slip away unnoticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will watched as Chiyoh helped Hannibal remove his IV, taping cotton gauze over the puncture as he pulled the needle out slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then here is where we say goodbye,” said Will, removing his sling before tugging on his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems so,” murmured Chiyoh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she turned and wheeled Hannibal out of the surgery. He heard them conversing quietly in Japanese as he slowly buttoned his shirt one handed and put his sling back on. As he went to leave, Chiyoh re-entered the surgery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you go…” she trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will stared at her expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know well this feeling of Hannibal’s, that all the people in the world are divided into two sorts: one sort is all the people in the world except you, and these people have all human weaknesses and are very ordinary; the other sort is you alone, higher than everything human."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you have me do?” asked Will, trying hard not to give away how those words shook him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you do, do it carefully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprising Will, she smiled at him and clasped his shoulder before walking outside and letting a stunned Will follow. Absurdly, he felt as though he had received her blessing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wheeled Hannibal through the house as Will trailed behind, glancing everywhere for a sign of Dimosthenis. When they came to the dining table, he saw a letter and a pen. Swallowing, knowing what it was, he walked past and outside the house, onto the jetty. He helped Chiyoh get Hannibal and the wheelchair on the boat then the three of them paused, just staring at one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The boat is stocked with medications and a set of crutches. I have arranged for you to refuel in Azores and there will be transportation waiting for a Mr Williams and Mr Kore once you get to Barcelona.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Chiyoh,” said Hannibal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Will. Goodbye, Hannibal,” she said, bending down to place a small kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Chiyoh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she turned around and was gone, just a figure receding in the darkness until she was swallowed whole into the mist. Will absently registered that a part of him was sad to see her go. He hoped he would get to see her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will turned to look at Hannibal who arched an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will glanced at the shoreline once more, the houses, the boats, the water and the beach. His last glimpse of America for a while yet. He swallowed. Last chance. Last chance before he gave it all up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” came the firm and immediate reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started the boat and steered them away, letting the moon guide them into the unknown.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The image of Will and Hannibal standing atop a mound of dead bodies comes from <a href="https://twilightsaga.propstoreauction.com/view-auctions/catalog/id/51/lot/12838/">here</a>. The inspiration will surprise you 😅</p><p>I imagine Will hugging the Stag Man and looking in the mirror to resemble this still from <a href="https://cdn.images.express.co.uk/img/dynamic/36/590x/Shape-of-Water-sex-scene-923203.jpg">The Shape of Water</a>. </p><p>This chapter contains the following references:<br/>1) "Trembling and obedient, he ate those burning seeds out of his hand..." is a reference to "He woke her then, and trembling and obedient, she ate that burning heart out of his hand," from Dante's inferno.</p><p>2) Hannibal says “We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down," which is a quote from If This Isn't Nice, What Is?: Advice to the Young by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.</p><p>3) Will paraphrases the quote, "But the time has come, I've realised that I can no longer deceive myself, that I am alive, that I am not to blame if God has made me so that I must love and live," from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstory (tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.)</p><p>4) “I know well this feeling of Hannibal’s, that all the people in the world are divided into two sorts: one sort is all the people in the world except you, and these people have all human weaknesses and are very ordinary; the other sort is you alone, higher than everything human," is also the paraphrasing of a quote from Anna Karenina.</p><p>5) "Whatever you do, do it carefully," is taken from Phantom Thread direction by Paul Thomas Anderson (2019).</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! Sorry for the wait but life has gotten hectic and also I was experiencing some writing fatigue and didn't want to put out something subpar!</p><p>Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings <a href="http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dusk kissed the evening sky slowly but surely until the skies drained of their eggshell blue and intensified into vast swathes of inky midnight. Will watched seagulls soar above him, the salt spray kicking around the boat and into his hair. The water was cold and refreshing, and although he began to feel the onset of soreness in his newly stitched wounds, there was a sense of freedom in his chest that he could not deny.</p><p>He turned to look at Hannibal, who despite his visible exhaustion, had made no move to shift from his seat beside Will. He looked like a man starved, gorging himself on whatever his eyes could land on. His eyes flitted from seawater to sky, from Will to the boat, from the clouds to his wounds, settling on each for a moment before moving on. Most of all, he stared at Will. At times, Will found himself staring back, a smile pulling shyly at his lips before he looked away again, overwhelmed and heated.</p><p>He pushed the boat onward, looking for speed more than anything. He had to get them as far away from the house on the bluff as possible. It was entirely likely that the FBI had not yet found the home but it was only a matter of time and then the search would be on. He was on the run. </p><p>Will Graham was on the run with Hannibal Lecter.</p><p>If they were caught now, there was no way he could deny his obvious involvement. There was no explanation in taking a serial killer and a fugitive away from US soil after breaking him out of prison. No explanation other than… he wanted to. He needed to. He could no longer abide by Hannibal sitting in a jail cell, languishing year after year. </p><p>“How are you feeling, Will?” asked Hannibal finally, after what seemed like close to an hour of silence. Will was quietly impressed; he had been expecting the man to crack sooner.</p><p>“Like a hastily tidied room. Someone came and shoved all the clothes haphazardly into the closet.”</p><p>“There is more beneath the façade than meets the eye?”</p><p>“Isn’t there always?” asked Will. </p><p>“With you? Yes.”</p><p>“And there isn’t with you?” he shot back, stung.</p><p>Hannibal laughed lightly.</p><p>“Say what you may about me, Will, but I am remarkably honest with myself. I do not feel guilty about my pleasures.”</p><p>“You’ve been shot. Is that a pleasure?”</p><p>“I told you once that hunting is a savage pleasure, one that we can share. And now that we have, I can only confirm that I was right. What is this moment called when we suddenly recognise what we have never seen? And which gives us a joy like a wound?”</p><p>There is a word on Will’s tongue, trying to get out.</p><p>“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”</p><p>“I have not hidden who I am to you for a very long time, Will. Humans are covered in veils, draped in niceties and morality, living lives that are mere vapour, shadow, insubstantial and insignificant. You and I have journeyed beyond the banal and have discovered the light in the darkness. The moon may not show its dark side to the countless on Earth, but to the right comet, all is revealed.”</p><p>“And I am your comet. In your orbit,” remarked Will.</p><p>“Will, I think you’ll find that I am the comet.”</p><p>Will blinked a little, turning to face Hannibal, whose face was earnest. Honestly was painted onto his face like brushstrokes from a maestro. His eyes were pleading. Devoted. Penitent. Will swallowed. </p><p>He put the boat onto autopilot, guiding it into the vast open ocean, before heading wordlessly down into the hull. He filled two metal bottles with water before climbing back up to the deck. He handed one to Hannibal before chugging from his own and sat back heavily in his seat.</p><p>“Let me know when you want to go down and sleep. I’ll help you.”</p><p>There was a flicker on Hannibal’s face, a twitch of a lip, here and gone in a moment. Most would not notice it, let alone understand it, but Will was not most people. The idea of sleeping despite his mounting exhaustion was anathema to Hannibal. </p><p>Will turned to face him squarely, analysing him as he would an insect under a magnifying glass, trying to discern the cause behind his discomfort. </p><p>Hannibal raised an eyebrow at his scrutiny, and Will raised one back.</p><p>It felt so much like old times that Will turned away sharply, closing his eyes and feeling the motion of the boat beneath him. His heart ached as he saw everything fall away, the rocking of the boat replaced by the solid steadiness of Hannibal’s office, the two of them sitting once more opposite each other in those leather chairs he had come to know so well. The exact shape and texture of it, the coldness of the leather under his palms, the heat from the fire radiating through the room, burnishing Hannibal’s skin golden and making the red wine glow softly.</p><p>“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”</p><p>“What pretense do you imagine I am engaging in, Will?”</p><p>“Your motives. You and I went so long speaking in riddles, labyrinthine conversations that led from question to question in an ever unravelling ball. Sometimes I feel like I know you so well that I can understand your thoughts even before you say them. Other times… you’re like my reflection. I can see you but I can’t reach you.”</p><p>“I’m right here, Will,” murmured Hannibal. “Just open your eyes and see. I’ve been waiting.”</p><p>Will paused, then opened his eyes.</p><p>“Why don’t you want to go to sleep?”</p><p>Hannibal tilted his head.</p><p>“I simply think it would be a good idea to keep you company while you sail us away from the US mainland. We should attempt to sail as far as possible before you have to sleep.”</p><p>“No, <em>don’t </em>do me the disservice of giving half an answer,” said Will sharply. “What’s the real reason?”</p><p>Hannibal finally found the time to take a drink of water. Will rolled his eyes, shifting bodily in his seat. Hannibal let out a tiny sigh before speaking.</p><p>“At any given point in time, I may have multiple motives behind a decision. Right now, companionship for an injured friend in whose hands I have placed my life is a contributing factor in my lack of desire to sleep. But you are quite right, Will. It is not the only factor.”</p><p>Will waited, impatience roiling under his surface, his face impassive as his jaw twitched.</p><p>Hannibal looked around the boat, the water, the dark black sky, the stars shining numerous and abundant, specks of light bright and defining. He breathed in several breaths of salty air and sighed once more.</p><p>“After three years of confinement, I must confess, I find the idea of sleeping in a little room underground less than enticing,” he said. “If the last few days have proven anything, it is the beauty and the joy of being alive and free. Ridding myself of this moment, right now, just for the oblivion of sleep would be the height of foolishness.”</p><p>Will looked up at the stars and tried to see them through Hannibal’s eyes. He breathed the air and tried to feel it go through Hannibal’s lungs. He looked at that face, its ridges and curves, its sharpness and softness, its sweetness and violence, and tried to imagine three years of it behind a glass barrier. He could imagine it too easily and he shifted uneasily. </p><p>“And?” he asked, a little hoarsely. </p><p>Hannibal blinked once, twice, then looked down at the bottle on his lap with uncharacteristic shyness that Will had seen only once or twice from him.</p><p>“And, Hannibal?” he asked, gentler, his voice a whisper that misted over them like the sea spray that kicked around the boat and settled in their hair.</p><p>“And you.’</p><p>Will’s heart was lodged somewhere near his throat. He could not look away from Hannibal’s face, even if he wanted to.</p><p>“Do you still dream as much as you used to, Will?”</p><p>“From time to time,” he replied, voice struggling to stay even.</p><p>“Still have trouble separating them from reality?”</p><p>“Not as much as I used to.”</p><p>“We know well that madness is a contagious thing, Will. A mutating organism without any material substance that travels from one mind to the next. Difficult to spot and even more difficult to stop.”</p><p>Will walked over to Hannibal and sat beside him. He unclasped one hand from around the water bottle and raised it to his neck, allowing two of Hannibal’s fingers to rest over his pulse point, warm and dry and so very alive. Hannibal gulped, raising his eyes to Will’s, soft disbelief settling over him.</p><p>“This is real life, Hannibal. And if it is a dream, then it is one we are sharing.”</p><p>Shakily, Hannibal raised his hand and cradled Will’s face, sliding his fingers into his hair in a gesture so familiar that the scar on his stomach twinged with the memory of pain. Will fought against the urge to close his eyes, instead keeping them locked firmly onto Hannibal’s. He remembered the sensation of reaching out to Hannibal for the first time on the cliff, the rush of relief when Hannibal had clasped his hand and pulled him up and into his body.</p><p>Wanting that joy, that relief, that connection once more, he reached out and cradled Hannibal’s face in return. At his touch, Hannibal shuddered and his eyes slid shut. Heart swelling with a foreign fondness so acute it felt like a blade at his throat, a flurry of arrows in his lungs and chest and arms and legs, tiny pricks of sensations dancing all over his flesh and all through his heated blood, Will slid forward on the seat until his body was pressed along Hannibal’s and their foreheads touched.</p><p>The touch of their foreheads was like hot wax, burning and stamping him. Will wanted it to leave a mark so he could preserve it forever. After all, what was one more scar on his body, courtesy of Hannibal? He was a living, breathing map of Hannibal’s design. At least this scar would be his choice.</p><p>“Have you dreamed of this?” he asked, eyes tracing over Hannibal’s lashes splayed over his cheeks.</p><p>Hannibal opened his eyes and the immediacy of them, their closeness, the depth of their colour, a brown like the sunlight reflecting off of tree roots, stunned Will into stillness.</p><p>“I do not dream often, but when I do, I do not allow for eventualities out of the realm of possibility.”</p><p>“Light and shadow. God and truth. You reach for the former while living in the latter.”</p><p>“I reached for a connection. I found you.”</p><p>Will moved his thumb over one defined cheekbone, tracing the path of his skull, imagining the bone and blood and meat underneath his palms vividly. The red pulses, the brain matter, the spaces of sinusoidal fluid, macabre and beautiful, and most importantly, <em>real. </em>Real and in Will’s hands once again.</p><p>“And I left you.”</p><p>“No,” said Hannibal immediately. “No, you made me leave you. There is a difference.”</p><p>“I found you again. You made sure I knew where to find you again.”</p><p>Hannibal smiled at that. Will could not help but mirror it. He pulled back slightly, unwillingly but knowing he had to go watch the boat which he had left unattended for too long. He stroked the side of Hannibal’s face once more in supplication, earnest and wanting to make sure he knew it wasn’t a rejection.</p><p>“Well, if you’re not going downstairs to sleep then you may as well keep me company,” he said, trying to calm his racing heart.</p><p>“Where are we heading?” asked Hannibal, his voice even once more.</p><p>“A reef about two hours away in the Gulf of Maine. We’ll be anchoring there overnight.”</p><p>They fell into conversation, some of the tightness in Will’s chest easing. He pushed all his uneasy thoughts aside, thinking of nothing but Hannibal and the open sea, so rife with opportunity. His old world was closed to him but a new one had opened in its stead. Not an easier one, perhaps, but a truer one. </p><p>Anything could happen. They were injured and broken, out on the sea where any number of things could go wrong, on the run and without any allies with the exception of Chiyoh who was now far away. Death did not faze him; he had Hannibal and the ocean. The ocean which had tested him and his need for survival and found him willing and worthy of life. If the ocean had spared him then what hope did any other paltry force have?</p><p>The hours sped by quickly, with Will explaining different parts of the boat and aspects of sailing to Hannibal, charting a rough course to Nova Scotia then to the Azores and finally to Catoira in Spain. A few times Will thought he must be boring Hannibal and would turn to look at him, only to find the other man captivated and alert, almost hanging off his every word. At each look, Hannibal offered him a slight quirk of the lips, a smile so subtle and knowing that he felt heat travel up the back of his neck, making him grateful for the cloak of darkness that hid his blush despite the small light of the boat.</p><p>“In time, as I heal, I hope to be able to assist you better, Will,” said Hannibal. “Being a wheelchair user is… less than ideal.”</p><p>“Not used to being the reliant one?” quipped Will. “You enjoyed my reliance when we first met. You fostered dependency. Allowed yourself to become my anchor in a flooding world that sought to drown me.”</p><p>“Will you do the same with me?”</p><p>Will’s lips twisted in a half smile, half grimace. </p><p>“I’m not sure yet.”</p><p>“I look forward to finding out in the coming weeks then,” said Hannibal.</p><p>“Still can’t predict me, then?” asked Will.</p><p>“There are some actions I can predict. Others remain out of my reach, like a mirage. You run towards them only to find they were never there to begin with.”</p><p>“Sounds frustrating,” murmured Will.</p><p>“It can be. Rewarding too, in its own way.”</p><p>Will chuckled.</p><p>“You didn’t strike me as a masochist, Hannibal, to want to bear such indignities with such delight.”</p><p>Hannibal smiled in return. </p><p>“You’re an empath - you know the world, Will. The universe is chaos and entropy incarnate, but humans are mathematical. Cause and effect dictate human behaviour to an increasingly predictable degree. The ones and zeros of life remain consistent throughout. So it is easy to see how a man like me could have gone through over four decades of life meeting people, who while sometimes interesting or talented, were utterly pedestrian.”</p><p>“And then you met me.”</p><p>“Unique. Quite unique. A force to be reckoned with, only subdued when you were not functioning at your best capacity.”</p><p>“The only man who could unmask the Chesapeake Ripper. Convince him to turn himself in.”</p><p>“You made me want things I never thought I desired.”</p><p>"Desire unlocks doors within us,” mused Will. “It melts boundaries of body and thought. It changes us.”</p><p>Hannibal inclined his head in agreement.</p><p>“What do you desire, Hannibal?” asked Will, his voice low.</p><p>“A great many things,” he replied. “I am made of desire and I indulge myself. Often. Although in recent times, I have not had the opportunity to do so.”</p><p>Will changed his question.</p><p>“What do I make you desire?”</p><p>This earned him a pause and he tamped down a vicious snarl of satisfaction. So many times his conversations had him feel like a butterfly, pinned in one place and dissected until all that was left of him was an assortment of neurons flaring at Hannibal’s touch. It was viscerally gratifying to know he could make Hannibal feel the same.</p><p>“At first…” he began haltingly. “At first, a connection, a sense of understanding.”</p><p>“I gave that to you.”</p><p>“And you used it to your benefit.”</p><p>“Much like you used yours,” he reminded Hannibal.</p><p>“After that, a family,” he continued, ignoring Will. “A legacy.”</p><p>Funny how words could split you open and leave you bleeding in ways you cannot see or stem, thought Will. Abigail was a long buried ghost he had exorcised from his life and tried his best to forget. Hannibal tried his best to make him remember.</p><p>“You gave that to me. And took that from me.”</p><p>“I took it from both of us. From all of us.”</p><p>Will let out a hollow laugh, even though there was nothing funny about the situation. </p><p>“What desires you have, Hannibal. Burning ones, that end in death.”</p><p>“Desire doubled is love,” said Hannibal.</p><p>“And love doubled is madness,” shot back Will.</p><p>“I suppose you’re right. They did say I was clinically insane,” quipped Hannibal. </p><p>“Whatever you are, Hannibal, I am here on this boat with you. So perhaps you and I are the same.”</p><p>“If you are just as mad as I am, then you love just as much as I do.”</p><p>Will froze.</p><p>“Love is beyond control,” he said cautiously, taking care to steer the boat as his hand shook.</p><p>“So is madness.”</p><p>“Not yours. Not mine. You and I both know you are not beholden to anything. You indulge in your desires but they do not control you. I am here because I want to be. This is my choice, Hannibal.”</p><p>“This is your madness.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Choosing me over the world is madness for you.”</p><p>“I wish it was,” said Will. “It is more like solving a puzzle. Watching that last piece slot into place after so long and feeling a sense of completion, of accomplishment. The madness is in that sensation. It is in pulling back every now and then to realise the picture you have completed is one of total abolition.”</p><p>“Abolition of what?” asked Hannibal, curious.</p><p>“Social norms, morality, goodness, obligation, boundaries, take your pick.”</p><p>“And you still care for those, Will?”</p><p>“You tell me,” said Will. “We’re here.”</p><p>Will stopped the engine and walked away from Hannibal, feeling the same cut-open feeling once again. He had almost missed it, the back and forth of their tongues, twining together and gnawing at skin and bones. He had opened himself knowing the dangers of being skinned alive. The more vulnerable he became, the faster and more deft was the knife of Hannibal’s tongue. Teeth and maw set to find his weakest points and bite down, just as he tried to do the same. He knew what was happening yet still stayed and let Hannibal carve him more.</p><p>Wounds and scars. They were just a collection of them. As much as it hurt to receive them, the savagery in gifting them hurt even more. It hurt exquisitely.</p><p>Will dropped the anchor and the rode, letting it sink into the soft seabed, anchoring them to the reef. When he turned around he saw Hannibal shakily standing up, reaching for the crutches.</p><p>“Wait, let me,” he said, rushing to his side and handing Hannibal his crutches.</p><p>“Thank you, Will,” he said. “Will you please bring the wheelchair downstairs?”</p><p>“Yes, of course.”</p><p>Folding the wheelchair up one-handed was awkward. Taking it down into the tiny room and stashing it in the corner was easier. But watching Hannibal manoeuvre down the steps on unsteady crutches as the ocean lumbered beneath them was downright nerve-wracking.</p><p>“Do you want to shower?” he asked.</p><p>Hannibal paused to consider then shook his head. </p><p>“In the morning.”</p><p>“Your clothes are in there,” said Will pointing to the suitcase. </p><p>He edged past Hannibal and grabbed the duffel bag, heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He set the bag on the bed and turned his back to Hannibal. He could hear the suitcase unzip and winced a little at the sure to be mess inside of haphazardly packed clothes. He busied himself with his sling, taking it off and wincing at the soreness. </p><p>He took off his pants and slid into the pajamas that Hannibal had bought for him. They were soft but comfortable blue cotton and he sighed in relief. The nights on the Gulf could get cold and he appreciated the warmth. He unbuttoned his shirt and gingerly slid into the matching blue sleep shirt. Then he refastened his sling, already sick of it but knowing he had to keep it on for his own good.</p><p>“Ahhh,” he heard Hannibal hiss out.</p><p>“Are you alright?” he asked Hannibal, closing the remaining buttons and folding his clothes in a neat pile by the duffel bag. </p><p>“I am having trouble changing my shirt. I’ll be okay.”</p><p>There was a pause. And then-</p><p>“May I assist you?”</p><p>Will took a few deep breaths, feeling his ribs protest but ignoring them, using the pain to ground him. The offer to help had slid out of him, entirely without conscious thought.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He turned around to find Hannibal still thankfully clothed, but with his shirt unbuttoned, holding his own set of pajamas in his hand. </p><p>Will walked forward and stood uncertainly in front of Hannibal who sat down on the bed to take his weight off his broken leg. Now, Will was looking down at him and felt a heat in his stomach at the sight. He was reminded of the time in the house on the bluff, when he had looked down at Hannibal before. This was somehow even more intimate.</p><p>Eyes questioning, Will raised his hands to the open edges of Hannibal’s shirt. At Hannibal’s nod, he eased it over his shoulders. Slowly, he worked one sleeve off, then the other, working meticulously, almost clinically, his gaze not lingering, or perhaps not daring to linger on Hannibal’s exposed skin. Will almost wished he would stare - his desire to do so was filling the room with an almost heady perfume of its own. The small places on Hannibal’s body where his fingers brushed seemed to burn him but he did not pull away. The large bandage on his torso was bared as the shirt came off and Will brushed a hand along its edge.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” he asked, berating himself for the childishness of the question as soon as it left his mouth.</p><p>“Not as much as some things,” replied Hannibal. “Nothing that our night medication won’t fix.”</p><p>Cognisant of Hannibal shivering slightly in the cold air, he quickly began to dress him in his maroon shirt, working each muscled arm into its sleeve and trying very hard to ignore the traitorous part of his brain that seemed to point out the surprising amount of greying chest hair on Hannibal’s pectorals and the elegant length of fingers as he brushed over them.</p><p>“Can you button it yourself?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes. Although…” said Hannibal hesitating.</p><p>“What is it?” he asked.</p><p>And then, Hannibal did something Will had never seen him do before. He blushed. Will stared in amazement at the sight, watching the colour crawl down Hannibal’s neck.</p><p>“If I unbuttoned these trousers, could you please remove them for me?”</p><p>“And help you into your pajamas too?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, I don’t think they’ll fit over the cast. These pants fit because they belonged to the late Dr Dimosthenis. Would you mind terribly if I slept without my sleep pants?”</p><p>Will swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.</p><p>“Uh, no, of course I don’t mind.”</p><p>He looked away as Hannibal unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zip, his own face now burning. He knelt down onto the carpeted floor of the boat and looked up at Hannibal as he lowered the pants to his thighs. Carefully, he lowered the large pants over the cast and down Hannibal’s long legs. This was intimacy of a kind he had yet to share with Hannibal. Or, in fact, with anyone. He had undressed women for sex, but never for sleep and sleep alone. This was uncharted waters. Uncharted and treacherous. </p><p>When the pants were off, Will quickly stood up and handed them to Hannibal.</p><p>“I’ll get our medication,” he said, fleeing back up to the deck and grabbing the small bag that Chiyoh had left there. </p><p>He opened the bag, taking his time to check that their medication was inside, hiding his face from the world and from Hannibal, trying to rid himself of that heady feeling of being overwhelmed and out of his depth. Bedelia said that Hannibal loved him - in what way, he did not know. What he himself felt for Hannibal was another issue and not one he was ready to confront. He would have to eventually, that much he knew, but if he was to spend three weeks on this boat with that man, then he had to compartmentalise. </p><p>Heading back downstairs with his head clearer, bag and their abandoned water bottles in hand, he entered an empty room, the water running in the bathroom. He could hear Hannibal brushing his teeth, then washing his face. As he did so, Will swallowed his own pills. When Hannibal emerged, bottom half clad in boxers and cast only, Will gave him his water bottle and the medication bag before hurrying to the bathroom to relieve himself. </p><p>When he entered the room, Hannibal had turned the main lights off, illuminating the space with the lamp mounted on the wall beside the bed. He had also managed to climb into bed and tuck himself in under the sheets. Heart pounding, Will walked to his side of the bed, feeling Hannibal’s eyes on him. He quickly got in, lying flat on his back and groaning as he felt the delight of the clean sheets and the perfect mattress, hard yet not excessively so.</p><p>“Good?” asked Hannibal. Will could hear his smile in his voice. </p><p>“Good.”</p><p>For a while, they were quiet. Will was oddly aware of his every movement, and of every part of his body. He was even more aware of Hannibal’s body next to him. He was aware of its heat, of the fact that half of it was close to nude, warm, golden skin stretched over the legs of a killer. He was aware of its fragility too.</p><p>Finally, Hannibal said, “Good night, Will," and plunged the room into darkness.</p><p>“Good night, Hannibal,” he replied, listening to the lapping of waves against the hull.</p><p>With a start, he realised that he had never questioned that he and Hannibal would share the bed. It had never even been a concern to him. Now, he sat back and questioned it as well as himself. Was he this okay with the blurring of boundaries? Was his madness, his desire, manifesting in a need for closeness? He had shared beds with lovers before but Hannibal was not his lover. What he was lacked definition, it lacked category.</p><p>Hannibal was…undefinable. Hannibal was by his side. </p><p>And for now, that is all that mattered. </p><p>With that thought in mind, Will drifted off to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello and so sorry for the long wait! Writer's block is a bummer!</p><p>This chapter contains the following references:<br/>1) "What is this moment called when we suddenly recognize what we have never seen? And which gives us a joy like a wound?” is from Stigmata: Escaping Texts by Hélène Cixous, tr. A. F. MacGillivray.</p><p>2) "There is a word on Will’s tongue, trying to get out," is a reference to "There is something in your throat that wants to get out but you won't let it," from Power Politics by Margaret Atwood.</p><p>3) “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody,” is a quote from Mark Twain.</p><p>4) “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be," is from Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.</p><p>5) "The touch of their foreheads was like hot wax, burning and stamping him. Will wanted it to leave a mark so he could preserve it forever," references Louise Glück's “Marathon”, specifically the lines, "Then you kissed me - I felt / hot wax on my forehead. / I wanted it to leave a mark: / that's how I knew I loved you. / Because I wanted to be burned, stamped / to have something in the end - "</p><p>6) '“Desire unlocks doors within us,” mused Will. “It melts boundaries of body and thought. It changes us.”' references two quotes: a) "What rich desire unlocks its door?" from Past the Point of No Return, Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Weber, and b) "Desire is not simple. In Greek the act of love is a mingling and desire melts the limbs. Boundaries of body, categories of thought, are confounded. The god who melts limbs proceeds to break the lover as would a foe on the epic battlefield," from Eros, The Bittersweet by Anne Carson.</p><p>7) “Desire  doubled  is  love  and  love  doubled  is madness," is a quote from The Beauty of the Husband by Anne Carson which is used by Will and Hannibal.</p><p>8) "He had opened himself knowing the dangers of being skinned alive. The more vulnerable he became, the faster and more deft was the knife of Hannibal’s tongue...He knew what was happening yet still stayed and let Hannibal carve him more," is a reference to “I opened myself to you only to be skinned alive. The more vulnerable I became, the faster and more deft your knife. Knowing what was happening, still I stayed and let you carve more. That’s how much I loved you. That’s how much," from I, The Divine: A Novel in First Chapters by Rabih Alameddine.</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! Once again, sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoy the chapter!</p><p>Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings <a href="http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Will woke slowly and on his back, awareness creeping into him like molasses. He was warm and being rocked, gentle and sweet, utterly content. Everything was hazy but in the best possible way, the softness of his clothes and the sheets suffusing him in a comfortable embrace. His shoulders were sore but that just made him want to bury himself deeper under the covers, enjoy the warmth for a moment longer.</p><p>He registered being dimly surprised at being dry instead of drenched in sweat. He had had no nightmares. He had expected nightmares. Pushing away what that meant, he focused on the warm, soft pressure on his hand. It was comforting and pleasant and he pushed into it, stroking over it, allowing himself the small happiness of touch. </p><p>Then his eyes snapped open. He was holding and caressing Hannibal’s hand.</p><p>He turned his head to the side to find Hannibal awake and staring at him. He was on his side, courtesy of his gunshot wound.</p><p>“Good morning, Will,” he said softly.</p><p>The light from the tiny window behind the bed fell upon them in segments, lighting up the bronze blonde brown of Hannibal’s hair and making it shine. His short cropped hair looked squashed to one side and he made no move to fix it. Almost without his own permission, his hand reached out and moved the hair until it sat evenly on Hannibal’s head, sweeping it back. He felt a strange jolt of rapture and surprise when he found the locks soft, although perhaps in need of a wash.</p><p>“Good morning,” he rasped, mouth dry from sleep and emotion.</p><p>“Did I wake you?” asked Hannibal, voice still soft, as though they were in a sacred space, and he did not wish to break the silence of worship.</p><p>“No,” murmured Will, equally reverent in the sunlight.</p><p>“It was not my wish to disturb you.”</p><p>“You were watching me sleep.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Will blinked and swallowed. He watched Hannibal’s eyes track the movement of his throat and felt warm all over. They were still holding hands. He willed himself to let go. Hannibal started to stroke his thumb over the back of Will’s hand and he felt his whole body be set aflame with the simple touch, possessive and presumptuous and perfect.</p><p>“What did I look like?”</p><p>His voice was barely a whisper.</p><p>“Something more wonderful than a dream.”</p><p>“What can be more wonderful than a dream?”</p><p>“Reality.”</p><p>Heat spread through Will, from the roots of his hair to his burning shoulders to the places where their hands were twisted like gnarled tree roots and down to his feet. He jolted a little, violent, before forcing himself to relax, gripping Hannibal’s hand in return.</p><p>“I thought you would tell me I look like a fulfilled prophecy.”</p><p>Hannibal cocked his head.</p><p>“Do you take me for Cassandra, Will?” he asked, with a small smile.</p><p>“Many a snake has slithered by your house. Some I have sent, others found their own way there. In any case, I have gotten rid of them all.”</p><p>Hannibal’s eyes sparked with the memory of their first meal together and now his smile bloomed wide, into a thing with teeth. Will was drawn to his uneven incisors and felt a smile mirror on his own face.</p><p>“You have always enjoyed playing the protector, Will.”</p><p>“I didn’t think you needed protection.”</p><p>“And now?”</p><p>“Now…in the light of day I see you. I know you better than anyone else. I’ve killed for you. Who else can say that?” said Will, tilting his chin, a mixture of arrogance and pride seeping into his tone.</p><p>Hannibal smirked a little. Will rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Do not say Chiyoh. She doesn’t count.”</p><p>“Why not? She is also family, Will.”</p><p>“It’s not the same,” Will insisted.</p><p>Hannibal’s grip on his hand tightened until Will winced a little at its intensity. He looked askance at Hannibal whose eyes had lost their mirth and gained a newfound severity.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Will’s breath caught in his throat.</p><p>“Why is it not the same, Will?”</p><p>A dozen answers ran through him, each leaving him more discomfited than the ones that came before. He wanted to run, to leave the bed and this boat and Hannibal and his knowing smile and his probing eyes and his difficult questions. But he had nowhere else to go. He had made his bed, and quite literally had to lay in it.</p><p>“Will?”</p><p>“She’s like a sister to you,” breathed Will.</p><p>“And you are?”</p><p>“Something undefined. Please don’t make me say more. Not yet.”</p><p>They teetered on the tightrope between what was said and what was heard, what was felt and was meant, what was asked and what was understood. Finally, Hannibal relented and let go of Will’s hand. Instead of snatching it back like his instincts demanded, Will let it linger, feeling the warmth of Hannibal’s skin radiating off his body.</p><p>“We should probably get up. Wash. Have breakfast. We have medications to take,” said Will, trying to restabilise the situation.</p><p>“Yes,” said Hannibal.</p><p>His eyes seemed soft now that the danger had passed. Soft and sure. Of what, Will did not know. Finally, and a little unwillingly, he detached himself from the other man, and gingerly got out of bed. It was a slow process, made all the more frustrating by the insistent prickle of pain in his arms. The painkillers and the adrenaline had worn off and he grimaced. Once he was standing, he turned to see Hannibal removing the covers and attempting to sit up.</p><p>Pain forgotten, he moved to the other side of the bed, wordlessly helping Hannibal into a seated position.</p><p>“Would you like some coffee?” Will asked, removing his hands from Hannibal’s person lest he felt the strange urge to touch him again.</p><p>“Yes, please, Will,” said Hannibal, leaning back against the cushioned headboard.</p><p>Will opened cabinets in the tiny kitchenette until he found the coffee machine, the same complicated contraption Hannibal had owned in Baltimore, this time with gold rather than silver detailing. Rolling his eyes and smiling to himself, he placed it onto the counter and packed it full of coffee beans. As it began to brew, he excused himself to the bathroom to relieve himself and splash water on his face.</p><p>He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, unsure of what he would find. More than scars and skin, what if whatever remained wasn’t human at all? He brushed his teeth one handed, staring at the sink the whole time. When he was done, he hurried out into the bedroom to see Hannibal waiting patiently, hands folded in his lap, eyes closed.</p><p>“Need help getting out of bed?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes.”</p><p>Amusement rising, Will helped Hannibal out of bed, once more aware of every place they touched. He felt exasperated at himself; Hannibal had touched him countless times before yet each touch had left Will unphased. Even in the worst of times, he had found a comfort in it. Initiating the touch himself, though, left him reeling. There was an agency in it, a power. There was a vulnerability too.</p><p>Hannibal swung his legs out and Will started. Right, no pants. Silently, he helped Hannibal pull on the discarded pair of trousers they had stolen from Dr Dimosthenis’ home, trying his hardest to not stare at inappropriate places in the light of day. </p><p>Hannibal reached for his crutches and Will let him go to the bathroom, hoping no assistance would be required there. Yet. Neither of them would be able to wash independently. The thought of Hannibal’s hands on his body, or his hands on Hannibal’s sent a quiet thrill through him. He pushed it aside and ventured upstairs after pulling on a thick jacket. </p><p>The morning was chilly but the sun was bright, waves lapping at the hull gently. Seabirds cawed overhead and the reef rose out of the water in several places, where birds perched and roosted. Will looked around and breathed in deeply. He felt free and alive and drunk on sunlight. There was something claustrophobic in his chest that was easing. His ribs ached and his shoulders hurt and he felt the beginnings of a headache, but none of it mattered. He was content.</p><p>There was a small satellite radio tucked away beside the driver’s seat. He grabbed it and hurried downstairs. Hannibal was pouring two cups of black coffee into matte black ceramic mugs with a gold rim. He added a cube of sugar into Will’s still remembering how he liked it all these years later and handed it to Will wordlessly. Will smiled a little at him, feeling the stitches pull just a bit. </p><p>He and Hannibal eased down on the bed, sitting side by side, waiting for their coffee to cool.</p><p>“Want to hear where the FBI is at?” he asked as they waited.</p><p>Hannibal inclined his head. </p><p>“I am curious to see how far Uncle Jack has gotten.”</p><p>Will fiddled with the knobs on the radio, moving past several stations of static, another one playing pop music, a fifth one playing advertisements, to finally arrive at the morning news.</p><p>
  <em> “The Bureau of Economic Analysis said the economy grew 2.9 percent in this financial year, an upward revision from the 2.6 percent it had estimated earlier. That was the strongest growth since 2005. Here’s hoping this positive growth carries through in the new financial year. Back to you, Lou.” </em>
</p><p>Will took a sip of coffee to calm his nerves. It was too hot and burned his tongue but the pain grounded him.</p><p>
  <em> “Thanks Amanda, some alarming and tragic local news - renowned surgeon Dr Janek Dimosthenis was found dead in his home. His cleaning staff said they entered the home around 6am this morning to find him dead by suicide. Shockingly, Dr Dimosthenis left a note where he confessed to engaging in gross medical malpractice and sexual assault of minors. Police were spotted at his home removing hard drives, a computer, and other evidence. Here’s hoping his victims find some sense of justice.” </em>
</p><p>“They found him quicker than I anticipated,” said Will.</p><p>“Yes, it isn’t ideal, but for now, they think it is simply a suicide out of guilt.”</p><p>“For now,” repeated Will ominously.</p><p>
  <em> “And now to a breaking story. The FBI manhunt into the disappearance of infamous serial killer and cannibal Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and his former patient Special Agent Will Graham continues. Police and the FBI were spotted at a clifftop home at Otter Cliffs, Maine last night and are still there this morning.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Here is the official statement BAU Chief Agent Jack Crawford gave to reporters an hour ago.” </em>
</p><p>Will leaned forward slightly. He saw Hannibal’s gaze sharpen in his peripheral vision.</p><p>
  <em> “Late last night, the FBI were able to track a stolen police vehicle to a private property in Maine. The property was not held under the name of Hannibal Lecter, but rather what we believe to be a pseudonym of his - Lloyd Wyman. At the home, there were signs of a violent struggle and we retrieved the body of an unidentified white male in his 40s. We have reason to believe that this man is the serial killer known as the Tooth Fairy or the Great Red Dragon.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dr Lecter and Agent Graham are nowhere to be found. As of now, they are classified as missing, and we are in the process of searching for their whereabouts. Dr Lecter is likely to be armed and dangerous. If you see him, please do not approach him. I repeat, do not approach him. He is highly intelligent and extremely manipulative. Please call the FBI hotline immediately if you have any information. We thank you for your cooperation.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Agent Crawford was unwilling to elaborate on Special Agent Graham’s role in the entire situation. Graham was previously falsely incarcerated for the Chesapeake Ripper’s crimes, and responsible for his subsequent capture and incarceration. His wife released a short written statement earlier.” </em>
</p><p>The coffee mug fell from Will’s hand and shattered on the floor, dark brown liquid seeping into the patterned fabric. Hannibal turned to stare at him, slow and reptilian. He barely knew how to respond, his breaths were shallow and his vision tunnelled.</p><p>
  <em> “My husband is a good man who willingly went back to work with the FBI at my behest. Wherever he is, he is in danger. Will, Wally and I miss you very much. We hope you’re safe, and will be waiting for you to come home.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We will update you as the story develops further. If you have any information, dial 1800-355…” </em>
</p><p>Silently, Hannibal took the radio and switched it off.</p><p>“Are you planning to leave, Will?” he asked quietly, eyes on the spilled liquid on the ground.</p><p>Will swallowed roughly. He expected the stirrings of panic but slowly came to realise that what he was feeling was anger.</p><p>“No,” he said firmly, feeling the muscles in his neck tighten.</p><p>He turned to face Hannibal who looked at him, at first in surprise then confusion then awed understanding.</p><p>“You’re angry,” he noted, voice filled with a hint of hope.</p><p>“Do you have a laptop in here? Or an iPad?”</p><p>“Bedside drawer.”</p><p>Will retrieved the tablet and set it down next to Hannibal.</p><p>“Turn it on please.”</p><p>Then he set about cleaning the spilled coffee and shards of mug. It might not be a teacup, he mused, but it was only fitting that he shatter something on this new chapter of their journey together. When all the ceramic pieces were removed and the liquid mopped up, Will sat back on the bed, ribs protesting at all the movement.</p><p>“It’s on, Will. What should I do?”</p><p>“I want to look at TattleCrime.”</p><p>Hannibal raised his eyebrows as he opened the webpage that was already saved to the Bookmarks bar. Will raised his in return. </p><p>As expected, Freddie had already uploaded an article, complete with lurid photos of the crime scene. Their crime scene.</p><p>“Read it out loud?” he asked. </p><p>Hannibal began, his voice deep and fluid and soothing. Will closed his eyes to take in Freddie’s words.</p><p>“The Chesapeake Ripper has done what he does best and ripped again - this time with a partner. Special Agent Will Graham, the man who was once jailed for the Ripper’s murders then set free, went missing along with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, surgeon, psychiatrist and cannibal, two days ago. Their police escort was found murdered by the side of the road, shot with bullets pulled from a Beretta 92FS Inox. Shockingly, the public was not notified of this incident until this morning. Police insiders claim that the notorious serial killer and troubled Agent were set free by the Tooth Fairy. To what aim, no one knows. The FBI, as always, is utterly clueless.</p><p>“What we do know is that late last night, the police tracked a stolen police vehicle to a house at Otter Cliffs, Maine. There was evidence in the car that showed it had been occupied by Mr Graham and Dr Lecter. As of now, internal memos indicate the FBI is working under the assumption that Graham was taken by Lecter under duress. But given the depth of the relationship between our dearest Murder Husbands, this is not an easily assumed fact. Rather, it seems to be a result of wishful thinking on the part of Jack Crawford, the Chief of the BAU who Lecter once attacked and left for dead, and who shares a close relationship with Agent Graham.</p><p>“Here’s what we do know - two vehicles were found on the property which is most likely owned by Dr Lecter under the alias Lloyd Wyman. One was stolen by Lecter and Graham, the other by the Tooth Fairy. A body of a 44 year old unidentified white male was found, gutted by a knife, throat ripped out by teeth. The body has been transported to Augusta, Maine for an autopsy at the medical examiner’s office, where it shall be identified by close associates. Insiders claim the man is Francis Dolarhyde, a recluse and film processing technician. TattleCrime can confirm that early reports indicate both Graham and Lecter took part in the killing, but whether it was murder or self defence will only be determined in time.</p><p>“The real concern now is the whereabouts of the two men. The FBI has classified them missing, even as TattleCrime can confirm in an exclusive, that evidence suggests the two men fell or jumped off the cliffs together. A bloody handprint was found on the edge of the cliff and FBI dogs were spotted traversing the miles of beach below where the two most likely fell. Such a fall is most definitely fatal yet no bodies have been found. No doubt, in some time, the search will extend to the sea. </p><p>“But on the off chance that the two are alive, and together, it is highly likely that Agent Graham is not under duress. Plenty of time has passed since their escape yet Agent Graham has yet to be in touch. Could we be facing a murderous duo of psychopaths? Spoilers: if we are, then there will be hell to pay,” concluded Hannibal.</p><p>“Jack must be pissed that he has a leak somewhere,” commented Will off-handedly as Hannibal finally drank his coffee.</p><p>“There are plenty of officers for Freddie Lounds to bribe,” remarked Hannibal, handing Will the tablet so he could flick through the photos. The scene looked different in the daylight, both more and less real. A lot of the blood had washed away.</p><p>“It rained?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes,” said Hannibal, smiling. “Rather helpful of Mother Nature, don’t you think?”</p><p>Will shook his head in disbelief. First, they survived the fall, now the rain. He felt blessed by water, no matter which form it took. More importantly, he hadn’t heard it rain. He hadn’t woken up once. Trying to ignore what that said about his level of comfort beside one of the most dangerous men in the world, he put the tablet down and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.</p><p>“How do you feel about pancakes?” he asked, removing flour, sugar, butter and longlife milk along with something called ‘no egg’ egg replacer.</p><p>He held up the packet and showed it to Hannibal who grimaced elegantly.</p><p>“A necessary ingredient. We cannot actually store that many eggs.”</p><p>Will waited.</p><p>“Pancakes sound lovely, thank you, Will,” he relented.</p><p>Will chuckled and began whipping together a passable attempt at pancakes, trying hard not to think about the Sundays spent with Wally, cooking breakfast in bed for his wife.</p><p>“You were angry earlier,” said Hannibal.</p><p>“Jack made Molly release that statement. He wants to manipulate me emotionally into giving you up, coming home, <em> if </em>I am alive. Freddie is right - if I am dead then so be it, but if I am alive, he knows I’m not under duress.”</p><p>“Why is that?” asked Hannibal as he poured the first pancake onto a hot pan to cook.</p><p>“Because I told him I wanted to run away with you.”</p><p>“When?” asked Hannibal, his voice unreadable.</p><p>“That night in your kitchen. Then in Florence. He knows he took a chance on me when he asked me to escort you. He won't be giving me any more chances.”</p><p>“He is giving you another chance, otherwise he would not have asked you to turn yourself in. If you don't, that's when you will have given up your final chance,” said Hannibal.</p><p>"Chances are for people looking to be saved. I told you - I'm just fine the way I am."</p><p>"You are angry though."</p><p>Silently, he cooked the pancakes, feeling Hannibal’s eyes on him.</p><p>"Angry that Molly was involved in all this and made to put out that statement meant to guilt me. Angry that Jack thinks it will work."</p><p>He plated the pancakes, rummaging in the pantry for some maple syrup and silently thanking Chiyoh when he found some. </p><p>"It won't."</p><p>A look of fierce joy entered Hannibal's eyes.</p><p>“Come on," he said and led them upstairs, leaving their plates and cutlery on the seating outside. He watched as Hannibal struggled up onto the deck then went back down to retrieve his drink, as well as some water and their medication. </p><p>When he came up, Hannibal was easing himself onto the couch. </p><p>“Alright?” asked Will.</p><p>“I am, Will, thank you for asking,” replied Hannibal, ever polite. </p><p>He waited for Will to be seated and watched silently as he poured a generous amount of maple syrup first onto his own pancakes, then without stopping to check, onto Hannibal’s.</p><p>“Thank you, Will,” was all he said before tucking into his breakfast. </p><p>Even injured and not at a proper table, he ate properly, in tidy bites, careful not to drip any syrup onto his clothes. The pancakes were fine, a little dry without the moisture of a proper egg, but that was remedied by the maple syrup.</p><p>“So what's the verdict?” asked Will when they were finished. </p><p>“The verdict?” </p><p>“On the pancakes?” </p><p>Hannibal looked at him and Will smirked. </p><p>“What's the matter? Scared to hurt my feelings, Dr. Lecter?”</p><p>Hannibal looked amused and annoyed. </p><p>“I think eggs would've helped the recipe, Will,” he said, smiling. </p><p>“And you hated the maple syrup.”</p><p>“And I hated the maple syrup.” </p><p>They sat there together for a long time, smiling at each other and watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Together, they divided their morning pills, antibiotic and painkiller and steroids, taking their cocktail together. For a long time they said nothing. Will couldn't remember the last time he felt so peaceful. </p><p>“Will?” asked Hannibal.</p><p>He looked over at the other man, eyebrows raised. </p><p>“I'd like to take a shower.”</p><p>All of Will’s inner peace came crumbling down at those six words. He swallowed. </p><p>“Happy to help.” </p><p>He watched a shaky Hannibal head down the stairs before following, his heart positively pounding in his chest.</p><p>“I would not ask for assistance if I thought I could manage myself.” </p><p>“Hannibal,” said Will firmly, with a strength he did not truly possess, “we're doing this.” </p><p>He swung the door closed behind them, placing their dirty dishes in the sink. Squaring his shoulders, he turned around, mentally preparing himself to whatever the sight of a naked and wet Hannibal Lecter would do to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ooooh whatever will happen next??</p><p>When Will says "I’ve killed for you. Who else can say that?" I am of course referencing the iconic Amy Dunne from Gone Girl.</p><p>Also this is Hannibal's fancy ass <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Diguo-Belgian-Belgium-Balance-Egyptian/dp/B011E98I22">coffee maker</a>!</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! Once again, sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoy the chapter! I need time to digest and write and lots has been happening with my family and covid so please bear with me. I hope to finish this story soon!</p><p>Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings <a href="http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com">here</a>!</p>
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